


Absence

by lumbeam



Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [7]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Friendships, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, horse talk, sadie and charles becoming friends :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: To say the St. Denis bank robbery went poorly would be an understatement.To even say it was a disaster would be too nice.It made Blackwater look like a slight mishap.--The time in-between the robbery and Arthur's return. (And after.)
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480901
Comments: 22
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is partially to show that I am still here and updating, I swear! but this is just a starter. laying the groundwork for this fic.
> 
> enjoy :)

“Hey! Hey!  _ Stop _ !” The man called out, breaking into a sprint. Charles could hear the sounds boots splashing in the collecting rain puddles. He kept running. Visibility on the docks were low, but he used it to his advantage. He threw off of his trench coat, too large for him anyway, and slid behind a crate. Crouched, he watched the lawmen search for him. It was hard to make out their shape—dark blue against a dark night in the rain—so Charles relied on listening. “C’mon, he couldn’t have gone far!” One of the men yelled. Charles breathed shallowly, eyes trying to adjust to the scene.

To say the St. Denis bank robbery went poorly would be an understatement.

To even say it was a disaster would be too nice. 

It made Blackwater look like a  _ slight _ mishap.

The Pinkertons, either tipped off by Bronte’s men or by Cornwall’s men, foiled the plan. Agent Milton shot Hosea. There was nothing anyone could do; he bled out in the street as  _ most  _ of the men escaped. There was talk that John got arrested. Through the skin of their teeth, they got out of the bank through making their own exit. Namely, by blasting through the back of the bank. They scaled the rooftops, dollar bills flying out of their bags as they ran. Lenny got shot on the roof. A couple of lawmen ambushed him and Arthur, and Lenny was the one that dealt with the brunt of their attack. Charles didn’t know what became of him since there was no time to wait. As they got to temporary safety, which was a boarded up building, it was only then that Charles had time to exhale and process what happened.

Arthur shut down, unable to think about how it all went wrong. He sat by the window, listening for the distant whistles of lawmen. If he was feeling daring, he peeked through the boards at the city. Not that he could see anything.

“What do we do now, Dutch?” Arthur asked, turning away from the window.

“We—” He sighed. “We wait. We’ll move at night. Maybe catch a boat.” He sounded just as tired as the rest of them.

“So what, we’re just sitting ducks right now?” Bill scoffed. “They’re gonna find us like this!”

“If you want to try and escape now, Williamson, be my guest.” Dutch gestured to the door.

Bill kept a hard stare at Dutch, then sat back against the wall.

Micah ran a hand through his hair. “Who do you think it was that tipped off the Pinkertons, boss? I ain’t seen Molly around in a while.”

“It wasn’t Molly.” Dutch said, stroking his mustache. “Although now that I think about it, Abigail  _ did _ sneak away pretty quickly.”

“What’re you saying?” Arthur piped up. “That, that Abigail is in on it?”

“They didn’t kill John, is all I’m saying.”

“Why would she arrange to have her husband arrested? I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

“Watch your tongue, cowpoke!” Micah sneered. Dutch held his hand up to stop Micah.

“ _ Someone _ had to tip us off.” Dutch explained.

“And I’m sayin’ we’ve made more than a few enemies.” Arthur muttered.

“You got more to say, Arthur?” Dutch asked, glaring over at him.

Arthur said nothing.

“I didn’t think so.” He turned to the other men, all sitting up against the wall. “Get some rest now, gentlemen. I have a feeling it’ll be a long night.”

Charles wasn’t tired. He rested his head against the wall as he heard the other men slip into an easy rest. He watched Arthur as he looked out the window. They made eye contact as Arthur turned back around, and he carefully crawled over to him. 

“Oh, you can’t sleep?” Arthur asked in barely above a whisper. He gave a glimpse of a smile.

“Not sure why I can’t.” Charles said in a vaguely playful tone. The mistakes of the robbery hung in the air. Both of them felt it. It registered on Arthur’s face. “Nothing you could’ve done would have changed anything.”

Arthur sighed softly. He put his head in his hands. “I just keep thinking about Hosea, an--an’  _ Lenny— _ ”

“I know.” Charles tentatively put a hand on Arthur’s knee, eyes focused on Dutch as he did so. He was fast asleep, arms folded, hat tipped over his eyes.

“I could’ve tried harder to save ‘em.”

“You don’t know if you’d be here right now if you did.”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned back against the wall. “Maybe none of us’ll be here by this time tomorrow.”

Charles scoffed. “Or sooner.”

Arthur’s laugh turned quickly into a sigh. He put his hand over Charles’.

By nightfall, the men quietly snuck down to the docks. Charles split off from them as a diversion. He gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze before he “sacrificed” himself. He wasn’t too concerned about the lawmen catching him; he was more concerned that he wouldn’t be an adequate enough diversion. As he saw the lawman’s figure stand in front of his crate, there certainly wasn’t an issue of keeping their attention.

“Keep looking!”

Charles got out his knife, moving closer to the man. He was an arm’s length away from him. 

With one swipe, he cleanly sliced the man’s Achilles tendon. The man screamed in pain as he fell. Charles straddled him. “Be quiet.” He whispered, putting his hand over the man’s mouth and his blade at the man’s neck. The man did as he was told, staring up at Charles in fear. 

He watched the men walk further down to the water, closer to the light. Cautiously, he took his hand off the man, stepping off of him.

Taking a few steps past him, he heard the lawman yell, “He went that way! Get him!”

Charles swore and ran down the docks. There were three choices: go out further on the dock, sneak through the city, or take a dip.

Tragically, most unfortunately, the last option was the most viable. He ran to the nearest ladder, the lawmen gaining on him quickly. He jumped off the dock and into the frigid water. He tore off his suit jacket and waistcoat, the fabric weighing him down. His hands clamored for purchase; the water was too murky. He wrapped his arms around the dock’s support beams. He coughed and sputtered, shaking in the ocean water. “With waters like this, he won’t last long.” He heard one of the men yell. A few of them chuckled at his demise.

By some stroke of luck, or maybe the waves carrying him along, Charles made it to the edge of the city. He crawled on land, dry heaving and water-logged, whistling weakly for Taima. He wrung out his hair and cleared his throat. With some fresh air in his lungs, he managed to whistle enough for his horse to hear him. She whinnied happily, her cantering hooves clattering on cobblestone. From cobblestone, to dirt, to the bridge. Charles gave her a pat. “You okay girl?” He asked. Taima seemed fine, just hungry. He gave her a carrot that he had in his saddlebag, then climbed on her before riding back off to Shady Belle.

  
\--  
  


Charles hitched Taima at the post. She was tired, not having stopped once from St. Denis to Shady Belle. The rain had somehow picked up  _ more _ . He was thankful he knew the path to the building by heart, given the lack of visibility.    
  
He pushed open the door, mistakenly having it slam against the wall. There were a few shushes until the shushees saw who walked through the door.   
  
“Charles!” Karen gasped. Some of the remaining camp members, mostly the women and the injured men, were waiting out the storm in the room that used to be the parlor. 

Charles’ eyes scanned the room, eyes adjusting to the candle light. And there, on the floor was--

“Lenny?” Charles gasped. He briskly walked over, boots squeaking.

His torso was bandaged up pretty good. He seemed to be knocked out on something. 

“The Reverend offered Lenny some of his  _ medicine _ ,” Sadie explained.

Noticing the bandaging as being different than what’s normally at camp, he looked at Miss Grimshaw. “Did you patch him up?”

“If I patched him up, I might start calling myself  _ nurse _ .” She said lightly, although there was still concern in her eyes.

“Turns out if you have enough money, doctors won’t say a thing to the law.” Karen said. “He got back a few hours ago.”

Charles made a face. “Doesn’t mean we’re off the hook.” He chewed at his lip. “Sadie, a word?”

Sadie followed him over to the stairs, the floorboards creaking with each step.

Charles inhaled, then exhaled slowly. How to break this information? “Hosea’s gone.” He said somberly.    
  
“Yeah, I heard.” She looked back at the other room. “Abigail told me when she got back.”

“She’s here?” Charles looked to see if there was any light through the hole in the wall upstairs. There wasn’t.

“Yeah, although I wouldn’t bother her.” Sadie sighed. “She’s pretty upset.”

“Does she know John’s been arrested?”

She shrugged. “I ain’t gonna wake her up to ask.”

“Of course not.” Charles folded his arms. The remainder of his suit was still soaked. “We can’t stay here. If the law doesn’t find us, Pinkertons will.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others, at least for Dutch?”

Charles opened his mouth and closed it again. He tried to surmise Dutch’s plan. “I think the rest of the men boarded a ship.”

She screwed up her face as if she smelled something bad. “In  _ this  _ weather? I ain’t no ship captain, but I can’t imagine the seas will be too kind to--”

“I know, I know.” Charles sighed. “We need to pack things up and leave. The sooner, the better.” 

“And go  _ where _ , Mr. Smith?”

“I don’t know yet.” He rested his back against the rickety banister. “You tell the others to start packing up, and I’ll find somewhere to--”

“Uh, _no._ _We_ tell the others to start packing, and _we_ will find a place to stay.”

There wasn’t really a need to argue about that. Besides Arthur, she might be the best bet they have in terms of scouting. “After you.” He offered, motioning her back to the parlor. 

Sadie clapped her hands twice. “We need to leave! We’re sitting ducks here, folks! Start packing things up!”

“In this storm?” Sean whined, resting his head on Karen’s shoulder.

“ _ Yes _ , in this storm! Charles and I are gonna find somewhere. Shouldn’t take too long.” She looked back at Charles. “Should it?”

Arms still folded, Charles shook his head.    
  
People started to get up and get ready for the storm outside. 

“Meet you out front.” Charles said to Sadie. 

“Gotcha.”

\--  
  


Charles didn’t bother changing, only deciding to put on a wide brimmed hat to keep the rain off of him. He gathered up his things, what little possessions he had, and waited out front for Sadie.

“Where were you thinking, Mr. Smith?” She asked, tucking her locks of hair into the brim of her hat. It seemed she collected her things as well in the meantime. 

He laughed sardonically. “Dutch has really boxed us in. The only place I can think of is somewhere in the bayou.”

“Huh,  _ great _ .” She clicked her tongue. “Not like the bayou is some kinda cakewalk.”

“Don’t I know it.” Charles muttered. “Especially at night.”

“What with the gators and all.” She lightly kicked her horse’s side, the two of them riding out into the night.  
  
Visibility, as Charles was experiencing the past handful of hours or so, was low. They attached their lanterns to the side of their saddles. They were both quiet as they rode along, neither of them spending much time around each other before now. Sure, they exchanged pleasantries, but Charles kept his distance. He remembered how she looked the night that Arthur and Dutch (and Micah, he supposed) found her. Even though she was wrapped in a blanket, the thick wool doing its best to cover her small frame, Charles could see she was trembling like a cornered animal. He looked into her eyes and saw something wild in her. He wasn’t sure whether to pity her or fear her. 

It was only after she and Arthur got ambushed by Lemoyne Raiders on their way back from the general store that Charles realized he should feel the latter. Arthur commented about the event many times afterward. “I tell ya, Charles, she didn’t need any help with shootin’. If anything, she needed to be told when to  _ stop _ shootin’.” She had a bloodthirst neither of the men had seen in the gang. Or, if he was being honest, anywhere.

Maybe, if she was there for the robbery, things would have been different. Maybe Hosea would still be alive. 

They rode past Caliga Hall, or at least what remained of it. The field was waterlogged, the rest of the plantation empty. “Surprised the Braithwaite Manor ain’t still burning!” Sadie said, if only to break the uncomfortable silence.

Charles laughed dryly. “You should have seen Dutch that night.”

“I’m sure it pales in comparison to when he fed that Italian feller to a goddamn alligator.”

“Oh,” Charles looked over at her. “Did Arthur tell you that?”

She shook her head. “Nah, Abigail told me. She kept givin’ Dutch weird looks after that night. I finally asked her what happened.”

“Mm.” Charles thought. It was certainly a topic he couldn’t bring up with Arthur. “I’m getting worried that Dutch is--”

“Losing it?”

Charles clicked his tongue. “I wouldn’t say it like that. He’s just getting more... _ careless _ with his plans.”

“One way of puttin’ it.” She muttered. They rode further into the thicket. “And with Hosea being gone…”

Charles sighed a heavy sigh. “I don’t think he knows what to do next.”

“Do any of us?”

“Fair enough.” Taima slipped slightly in the mud. Charles pulled back on the reins. “Careful here.”

“Stay on the trail, I know.”

“Watch out for--”

“Gators, I got it.” 

“Watch out for anyone who says they’re lost as well.”

“I imagine there’s a story attached to this?”

“Not much of one. Arthur and I got ambushed when we were on our hunting trip.”

“Was that after he got shot in the shoulder?”

“Yeah.” Charles couldn’t help but think about how Arthur stumbled back into camp. It made his stomach sink. He wondered what he was doing. If the other men  _ did _ make it onto the ship.

And if they did, where were they going to go? How long was he going to be gone?

“You’re worried about him.” Sadie said softly.

“I’m worried about all of them.” He deflected. Then, after a pause, he said, “Except Micah and Bill.”

“Well of  _ course _ . You’re only human.” She laughed lightly. “But you’re worried about  _ Arthur _ .” The way she said his name made it seem like she knew something. Charles gave her a look, although with her lantern it was hard not to squint over at her. 

After a long pause of looking at her, Charles focused on the path. “I don’t--”

“ _ Don’t _ say you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.” Sadie said sternly. “Y’know, people think that because I’m mourning the loss of my dear Jake, it means I ain’t takin’ in the scene around me. But I  _ see _ things, Mr. Smith, and I know you  _ fancy _ Arthur.”

He didn’t want to give in to her correct suspicions. Not yet. “ _ Really _ .”

“You’re playing it coy, but I know love when I see it. What you have with him reminds me of what I used to have with my Jakey.”

A longer pause. “...Okay.”

“There’s the strong, silent type everyone knows,” she laughed. “I ain’t gonna tell anyone, even though Micah’s trying to convince people he knows what’s goin’ on between you an’ him.”

Charles laughed. “Not that it’s sticking.”

“Exactly.” Something seemed to catch her eye. She leaned forward on her horse, then untied her lantern from her saddle. “What’s that up ahead?”

Charles did the same maneuver. “Looks like a few shacks.”

“Better put out our lanterns, unless we  _ want _ to get spotted.”

He put out his lantern light. “Definitely not. Let’s get off our horses up ahead.”

“All right.” She turned the knob on her lantern as well. “Lead the way.”

Taima huffed at being off the path, hooves stomping in the mud. “There’s no gators here, girl.” Charles gave her a pat, then offered her an oatcake for her troubles. He pulled out his bow from his saddle. 

“Ready to clear out some vermin?” Sadie asked, her repeater strapped to her back.   
  
Charles furrowed his brow. “We need to keep the noise down.”

Sadie screwed up her face. “Even with the goddamn storm ragin’ over our heads?”

“The sound of gunfire cuts through anything, you know that. You got a bow?”

She went back over to her saddle. “All I got is a knife.”

“I’ll lead the way.”

“But when push comes to shove, you best believe I’ll fire back.” She crouched down in the mud, waiting for Charles’ move.

Charles pulled out his binoculars. The shacks looked abandoned, save for maybe one. A dim light was in the windows. “You take the shack with the light, I’ll scope out the rest.”

“You sure?”

Charles nodded.  
  
“You’re the boss.” She said warily. They crept up to the shacks before splitting off. Charles watched Sadie as she nudged the door open, her knife drawn. As he turned his head, he heard the muffled screams and wet sounds of her stabbing the men. Charles heard footsteps ahead of him. 

“It ain’t nothing.” One voice said. “Barney probably gettin’ too rowdy again.”

Another voice chuckled. “Sounds ‘bout right.”

Charles pressed his back to the wall of the shack. He leaned into the doorway. There were two men, Lemoyne Raiders by the looks of it, smoking on the other side of the shack. Charles drew his bow. He killed both of the men before they could react. He stepped into the shack to retrieve his arrows from the bodies. He reveled in the shelter, if only for a brief moment, before he crouched and pulled out the arrows. 

As he got up, he felt rough hands push him onto the bodies. Charles flipped around, scrambling to get out of the man’s reach. His hand hovered at his knife, although the Raider pulled out his pistol as soon as he saw Charles make a move.    
  
“Don’t move, you son of a--” Then a shot rang out. The Raider collapsed to his side, his exit wound in this right eye socket. Charles propped himself up, seeing Sadie on the other side of the shack. “You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He stood up slowly.

“I don’t think we should have split up.”

Scoffing, he said, “I’ll remember that for next time.” He put away his arrows and wiped the man’s blood off his face. “You cleared out the house?”

“Sure did. There were only two fellers, both drunk as skunks.”

“Good.” He looked out to the main shack right by the water’s edge. “There might be more Raiders in there.”

“There probably are. Let’s hope they’re all drinkin’ their backwoods moonshine.”

“Don’t know if we’ll be so lucky.” He motioned to Sadie. “You lead the way.”

Sadie did a mock curtsey and pulled out her repeater. Charles loaded his revolver.

Unfortunately, the Raiders had heard the gunfire. Even before Charles got to the door, one of the men broke open the window, firing out at him and Sadie.  
  
“Shit!” Sadie ducked behind a barrell. “So much for keepin’ the noise down!” She got her repeater out, pointing it at the window. With two shots, the man slumped out of the windowpane. 

The rest of the Raiders in the shack stormed out. It was easier to take them out; more than half of the men were stumbling drunk. It almost wasn’t fair. After the last Raider fell in the mud, they investigated in the shack, guns still drawn. It was warm, almost too warm. Liquor bottles were strewn about, scattered cards, dirty clothes….not entirely dissimilar to their camp. “This is good for now.” Charles said, kicking an empty can out of his way. 

“Let’s hope there won’t be reinforcements.” Sadie grumbled. 

“If we get back to camp quick enough, we’ll be fine.”

“Should we move the bodies?”

After a moment of thinking about it, Charles nodded. At least it would keep the gators busy.

The two made haste as they cleared the camp of the corpses. The rain was letting up slightly, but it was still the dead of night. Sleepiness was starting to set into his bones, but he tried to ignore it. Once he could move everyone here, then he could rest. If only for a few hours.

They make it back to Shady Belle just before dawn. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to be ready to go. Even Sean, despite his sluggishness and bellyaching, was on the back of Karen’s horse. “The cavalry is back!” He called out. A couple of the women were sleeping against a tree. Others, like Miss Grimshaw, were still loading things up onto the cart.

“Do we have everything?” Charles asked, dismounting from Taima. 

Susan tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I think all that’s left is Mr. Morgan’s things. Maybe I was holdin’ out hope they’d be back by now.”

Charles bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll go and retrieve his things--”

“I got it, Miss Grimshaw. Could you round everyone else up?”

She must have noticed a certain tone in Charles’ voice, so she didn’t press him about getting Arthur’s belongings. She nodded curtly before turning and chastising the ladies for falling asleep. “Ladies! This ain’t no rest home!”

Charles walked through the dilapidated house. It looked even more sad than before they moved in. As he climbed up the stairs, he felt nostalgic for when he slipped into Arthur’s room, a little drunk and warm. How long ago was that? Days? Weeks? Months? Charles seemed to lose track of time, especially with Dutch’s plans constantly ramping up. Arthur’s door was open, but his room looked the same as it always did.

The same as it did when he managed to sneak into his room, a few days before the robbery. 

_ “Be quiet,” Arthur hushed. “Sound travels like crazy in this house.” _

_ “I’m not the one stomping around.” Charles whispered back, slowly shutting the door behind him. _

_ “Who says I’m stompin’?” _

_ “You, with your fancy boots!” _

_ “Shh!” _

_ Charles sat beside Arthur on the bed. The springs creaked something awful. “Sorry.” _

_ Arthur tucked Charles’ hair behind his ear.. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk.” He placed a kiss on the nape of his neck.  _

_ Charles pulled away from him despite savoring the feeling of his lips on his neck. “Is that why you wanted me up here? For some kind of tryst?” _

_ “No!” Arthur said quickly. Then, after a moment, he said, “Unless you’re up for somethin’--” _

_ He lightly shoved him. “You dirty old fool.” _

_ “Like you weren’t thinkin’ the same thing!” Arthur said just above a whisper. _

_ “Maybe at first,” Charles laughed quietly. “Then I remembered Marston and his family is right across the hall--” _

_ Arthur put a hand over his face, then slid his hand down to Charles’ knee. “Why’d you haveta remind me?” _

_ “It ain’t like you forgot.” _

_ Arthur looked over at Charles slyly. He looked so handsome in the lantern light. “Maybe not.” _

_ Charles laughed, then noticed there was a squeaking in the floorboard. Arthur’s leg was starting to bounce. “You okay?” He placed a hand on his twitching knee. _

_ “Yeah.” He said unconvincingly.  _

_ “Are you worried?” _

_ “Me? Worry?” Arthur asked sarcastically. “I’d never be like that.”  _

_ “Right.” Charles figured it would be best to not talk about the robbery. There was enough discussing and planning going on, mostly between Hosea and Dutch. Even Abigail was going to join. There were a lot of moving parts in the plan. It might be an even larger operation than Blackwater. Now that he was thinking about it, he tried not to think about it. _

_ “It’ll be all right, though.” Arthur sighed, resting his hard on Charles’ shoulder. “I trust Hosea knows what he’s doing.” He squeezed Charles’ hand back. _

Looking at Arthur’s room now, the dreariness hanging in the air, Charles felt almost foolish for being optimistic. He wordlessly gathered Arthur’s belongings, shoving his possessions into his steamer trunk. All the notes and letters, photos of his parents and dog, scraps of newspapers, the cigarette cards, his shaving kit and pomade, the spare bird feathers. Charles smiled at the feathers; he’d mentioned offhand that he needed some hawk feathers for his arrows. He figured they were for him, but he also figured that Arthur would be back soon enough. And he  _ tried _ not to feel foolish for being optimistic about Arthur returning.

He lifted the heavy trunk, grunting at the weight. “Shit, Arthur, what do you have in here?” He muttered, carefully pushing the door open. He stepped down the stairs slowly, almost grateful no one was here to see him struggle.

And then he stepped into the dining room. He saw Sadie scrawling a letter, her standing over the dining room table. “What are you doing?”

Sadie glanced over. “Figured we can’t leave exactly  _ where _ we’re staying, so I’m writing a letter to my  _ dear uncle Tacitus _ .”

“Huh,” Charles laughed. “Smart.” His arms felt like they were going to get pulled out of his sockets. 

Sadie signed off on her letter with a flourish. She set the fountain pen down and directed her attention to Charles, who was already making his way out the door. “You...need help?”

“No,” he lied. “I got it.

Charles huffed as he staggered to the coach, a sheen of sweat on his face. He all but grunted as he put Arthur’s trunk onto the back. “Ms. Grimshaw,” he sighed. “Is everyone done packing?”

“They damn well better be! They’ve had all night to do it!”

Charles wiped his face with his sleeve. He was damp all over. He couldn’t remember the last time he was comfortable and dry. “Susan, I was thinking--”

“I sure hope you’re not going to say nothing about the men being left behind.”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that.” Well, he certainly wanted to bring it up to someone, but he also knew not to verbalize his worries like that. “Is Kieran going to be on the coach?”

“I think Mary-Beth has stepped in to help. Pretty sure Mr. Duffy is bein’ guided by her horse.” Susan craned her neck to check. “Yep, looks like it! I think it’ll be me and Mr. Pearson on the coach.” She looked at Charles a little bit more, a slight concern growing on her face. “Unless you need some rest?”

“No, I just wanted to--”

“Charles!” Sadie called out, putting her hat back on. “We ready to move out?”

“I think so!” Charles responded. He whistled for Taima.   
  
  
\--

They arrive at the old Raiders camp without much issue. One of the horses got scared by a snake, but other than that it was smooth sailing. Susan ordered the other ladies to help unpack. Sadie, Charles, and Pearson gently set Lenny in one of the lower bunk beds. He was still out like a light. Charles glanced down at his torso, relieved to see not as much blood was seeping through the bandages.

Things settled a little. People unpacked what they needed to. Pearson started to make some stew with what fresh food they had. Charles slung his rifle over his shoulder, dragging his feet to stand watch. 

“Charles!” Karen called out. “Where ya goin’?” 

“I was going to guard. Sadie and I  _ did _ steal this from Raiders--”

“Uh,  _ no _ .” Karen said sternly. “You need to get some goddamn rest. You’re still in your suit!” 

Charles looked down. The suit, or what remained of it, was hanging off of him and covered in dirt and blood. Well, at least it was dry…

“I’m fine, Karen, I won’t be--”

She gently grabbed him by the shoulders and lightly shoved him to the house. “Go to sleep!”

“Fine! Fine.” Charles yawned. He went to find his bed the ladies made for him. It was right next to Arthur’s trunk. He wasn’t sure who made the set up, but he was too tired to fret about the placement. He rested his gun next to the wooden frame of the bed. The hay mattress was more comfortable than the ground, he figured. He slipped to sleep before he could even tug off his boots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something lurks in Lagras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO IT IS I, BACK FOR AN UPDATE!
> 
> I'm sorry there's been so much time inbetween the previous chapter and this one! Life has been crazy for me as I'm sure it has for all of you! Thanks for sticking with me! <3 
> 
> enjoy!!!!!

Charles didn’t sleep comfortably. He kept hearing the sound of crashing waves as he slept. The hay mattress poked and prodded through his clothes. He opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. It was dark out. He searched through his bag to find a new change of clothes. He figured staying in a filthy mud covered outfit for more than two days (maybe less, maybe more) was enough for him. 

A few of the camp members were sleeping. Lenny was still conked out from the “medicine,” snoring slightly. Clean clothes tucked under his arm, he walked to find the barrel of water and a bar of soap. 

“Charles!” Karen said, a little tipsy. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough.” He said. He wasn’t exactly in the talking mood.

“I sure hope so!” Sean said. “You slept damn near a day!”

Charles stopped. “What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” Tilly interjected. 

He furrowed his brow, looking back at the shack. It felt like he slept for an hour at most.

“You’re working too hard, ya sad sack!” Sean laughed.    
  
Charles scoffed. “Someone’s gotta.”

Over slight jeers and laughter, Charles made his exit. He found some soap and a rag as he snatched a pail of clean (enough) water from the barrel, finding his way into the woods. 

There probably wasn’t any gators, or snakes, or Raiders, but Charles made his time to clean pretty quick. He tried to think about his dreams, or if he had any.    
  
All he could think of was the sound of the ocean rolling in against him. Waves crashing on rocks. The feeling of the sun blistering his skin. It felt different, much different than St. Denis weather. The crashes in his dream felt unlike the crashes against the pier.

He felt the back of his neck. His hair was stuck to his skin with sweat. He ran a rag over it. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, but he could relieve someone of night watch. It’s not like he needed to sleep for a while.

And yet his body  _ ached _ with sleep, unformed bruises, and pain. He dumped the remaining bucket of water over his head, a brief respite from the muggy air. 

He dried off, got dressed, and made his way back to camp. His boots sloshed in the mud. 

“Charles?” He heard a timid voice ask. It was Kieran. He was near the horses, brushing down Branwen. “Is that you?”

Charles set the bucket down by the caravan. “How could you tell?”

Even in the dim light, barely lit by the fireplace, he gave a weary smile. As if Charles was going to scold him. “I could hear it. You walk slower than the rest of ‘em, although your steps are more careful.” He motioned to the fabric wrapped around his eyes. “I guess they say when one sense is gone--”

“--the others get stronger.” Charles finished for him. He tossed his dirty clothes next to the bucket. He might as well burn them later. It wasn’t like he was going to wear it again. “How are you?”

Kieran shrugged. “Dunno. Okay, I guess. I’m--I’m adjusting as best I could. Does my horse look okay?”

Charles walked over, patting Branwen on the withers. “Yeah, just fine.” Charles felt a pang of sadness for the man. It wasn’t like the former O’Driscoll was his priority, but maybe if he and Arthur got Colm...maybe he’d still have his eyes. Charles gave the horse another pat. “Take it easy now, Kieran.” 

“O-okay Charles.” He said nervously. 

Charles walked to the front of the camp. He saw Miss Grimshaw holding a rifle. “Mr. Smith!” She said, looking back at him as he approached. 

“Evening.” He held out his hand to take the rifle.

“You’re going to be on watch?”

Charles looked at her, then out at the darkness of Lakay. “I need something to do.”

Even if she could tell the nervousness, the most subtle shake in his hand, she didn’t remark on it. She handed the rifle over to him. “You and Miss Adler are workin’ so hard.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.” Charles tried to say lightly.

“I didn’t say I  _ didn’t _ want it.” She sighed. “Just wish others allowed you some time to rest.”

“Sounds like I got plenty of rest for the past day.” Charles slung the rifle over his shoulder. 

“Mary-Beth told me you kept twitching in your sleep.” Miss Grimshaw said it so casually.

Charles cleared his throat. He tried not to think of Arthur’s twitches when he was recovering. “I was?”

“Must’ve been in a pretty deep sleep.”

“Yeah, must have.”

There was a brief pause before Susan said good night to Charles.

\--

Charles stayed until the sun rose and then some. His feet were sore from standing all night. He strolled back into camp to find Pearson was making hotcakes again. He could feel a pit form in his stomach as he saw them flip on the griddle.

“Mr. Smith!” Pearson said, holding out a tin plate. “You get the first three.”

“Thank you, but I’m not--”

“Please.” He held the plate out further to him. “You need to eat something.”

Charles took the plate without another word. The hotcakes were pretty dry. He washed down the crumbs with a mug full of bitter coffee. Not an ideal breakfast, but better than nothing. He ate quickly, setting his dishes in the wash bin. 

He stepped back into the building, only to hear the small voice of Jack reading slowly.

“‘Otis-Miller...jumped over a cr-crate, and shot the man in the blue coat--”   
  
“Good, Jack.” Charles heard Abigail’s encouraging voice.

“Do you think this will help Lenny get better?” He asked. Lenny was still asleep, but his chest was rising and falling peacefully. 

“I think it will.” She gave him a kiss on the head before looking up to see Charles. “You keep practicin’ your reading, ya hear? I’m gonna go talk to Charles.”

“Okay.” He said, his pointer finger following along the words. “The man yelped in pain—“ 

Abigail walked over, her arms folded. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Abigail.” He greeted. He wasn’t sure how to broach the issue. “I wanted to talk to you about John—“

“Shh, shh.” She shushed, looking back at Jack. “You think we could step outside?”

“Sure.”

“Jack, momma’s going outside real quick.”

“Okay!” He called out, not a care in the world. 

The two of them walked to the back of the building, out to the docks. Charles could see gators swimming in the murky water. He could hear Abigail sigh shakily. “I’m sure you know he’s been arrested.”

“I heard the police callin’ his name and him yellin’.” She lowered her eyes, hiding her gaze from Charles. 

Charles wasn’t sure he should offer her condolences. It won’t get him out of jail. “I’m sure his bail is too high at the St. Denis prison?”

“I think--I think they took him to  _ Sisika _ .”

Charles stroked his chin. “When Dutch and the other men get back, we’ll save him.” There was a pause. “Somehow.”

“You really think Dutch and the others will come back?”

“They’ve gotten out of worse binds than this.” Charles said, partially trying to convince himself. 

Abigail made a face. “I ain’t so sure about that.”

Charles wiped his brow. It was only nine a.m. and he was already sweating. How miserable. “We’ll save him.”

She nodded, trying to hold back tears. “Hosea helped me escape before Pinkertons caught him.”

“He did?”  
  
“Yeah, he--we were cornered, but he convinced them to only take him.”

“That man could talk even Trelawny out of a scheme.”

“I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t--Jack wouldn’t have parents--” She started to cry. As she wiped her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry for bein’ like this.”

“No need to apologize.” Charles watched her with kind eyes as she pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket.    
  
“I don’t want Jack to know what happened to his father.”

“I understand.”

“I just keep tellin’ him he’ll be back soon. He don’t remember when John left the first time, but he will now.” She crossed her arms, sniffling.

“It’ll be okay, Abigail.” 

Unsure, she still nodded.

“Momma!” Jack yelled. “Come here!”

Abigail left without another word. “What is it?!”

“Lenny’s awake!”

Charles followed her back inside. Sure enough, Lenny’s eyes were open. He was trying to sit up further in bed, grimacing and struggling to do so. 

“You need help?” Charles asked.   
  
“If ya don’t mind.” Lenny groaned. Charles picked him up slightly from under his armpits, pushing him up against the bed frame. He exhaled slowly, still in pain. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“My reading helped him, momma!” Jack smiled at Abigail. 

“It sure did.” She patted Jack on the head. “We should let Charles and Lenny talk now.”

“Pearson’s making hotcakes, Jack.” Charles said.

He was out of the building as soon as Charles said “hotcakes.” Abigail trailed after him, only briefly looking back at the two men.

Charles sat on the bed adjacent to him. “How’s it feel?”

Lenny tried to laugh, but grimaced at the pain. “How do you think it feels?”

Charles’ eyes trailed down to Lenny’s side, still wrapped tightly with gauze. Blood long since dried into the fabric. “I’m sorry that I didn’t-- _ ” _

“What could you have done?” Lenny asked, breathing shallowly. “They ambushed us. If you or anyone  _ did _ help, maybe we would both be dead.”

“Mm. Maybe so.” Charles tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Where’s Dutch and the rest?”

“Sounds like they went on a boat somewhere. Hopefully just long enough for the dust to settle.”

“I’m sure they’ll be back.”

“It’s been a couple of days already. Me and Mrs. Adler had to find a place to move to. Not sure how much you remember of that.”

“I remember the bumps in the path, maybe some rain.” Lenny said, still trying hard to keep his eyes open. “Not much.”

“Swanson’s medicine really worked, huh?”

Lenny nodded weakly. “More’n you can imagine.”

Charles gave him a curt nod back. “I’ll let you get some rest. You need water?”

“Not right now.” He said in almost a whisper. His eyelids closed slowly.

“Hang in there.” Charles said before leaving the building.

\--

Sadie returned to camp early the next morning, a large formless bundle of canvas on the back of her horse. At first, he figured she was hunting, but then he saw the vaguely oblong shape. It certainly wasn’t an animal.

“Ah, Mrs. Adler.” Charles greeted. He was just about to switch shifts with Sean. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Can you help me with something?” She asked. Her eyes looked wild. Charles wasn’t sure about this.

“Let me get Taima.” He whistled for his horse. She slowly came trotting along, not a care in the world. “Where were you?”

“I’ll tell ya on the way.”

Charles climbed on Taima. “And where are we going?”

“I’ll tell ya in a bit.”

Charles gave her a look.

“Oh re- _ lax, _ you worrywart.” Sadie clicked her tongue and they rode off to an uncertain location. The oblong shape on her horse lolled and swayed as her horse trotted. “I ain’t leading you into the lion’s den or nothin’.”

“Maybe the gator’s den...” Charles muttered, keeping his nerves under wraps as he watched the weird shape on the back of Sadie’s horse.

She looked back at the camp. It looked like she was far enough away to tell him. “I stole Hosea’s body from the morgue,” she whispered fiercely.

“You--you  _ what _ \--”

“Shh!” She said with a smirk. She was like a school girl sneaking cigarettes to her friends. “It weren’t too hard. I just acted like I was a grieving widow, meaning to identify my  _ husband _ , then I  _ begged and pleaded  _ to the policeman to let me give him a dignified burial.” She explained it in sort of a sing-song voice.    
  
Charles was impressed and amused. “Surprised they let you go.”

“I ain’t sayin’ I’m meant for the stage, but it was pretty convincin’.”

Charles looked back at Hosea’s body, wrapped in a cloth body bag. “Where were you going to bury him?”

“Just up here. I chose it when I was headin’ back.”

“All right.”

The spot that Sadie picked out was nondescript, just off the edge of the bayou. Wild hogs oinked and screeched as they slowed to the spot. “It ain’t mud, but the dirt is pretty soft.” Sadie said, dismounting. “You want to take the head or the legs?”   


Charles shook his head. “I got him.” He lifted his Hosea’s lanky body and slung him over his shoulder. He was heavier than he imagined. Sadie took a shovel from the saddle and started digging. “I imagine you don’t have two shovels?”

“Figured we could take turns.” She grunted as she dug the hole. “Although you could find some scrap wood for the tombstone.”   
  
“Hosea should get something more than--”

“I know he should--” She strained, tossing the shovel full of dirt through. “Just for now.”

Charles looked around. “Okay.” 

After searching the surrounding area, getting his boots and clothes all muddy, he found something that would suffice enough for a grave marker. A piece of plywood, covered in lichens. It looked like it might have belonged to an old stagecoach. Charles got out his hunting knife and started to carve Hosea’s name.

“I got three feet,” Sadie panted. “You got the other three?”

“Sure.” Charles responded, focusing on carving the S. 

Sadie watched him for a moment. “How many tombstones you had to make, Charles?”

“Mm.” He thought for a moment. “Too many.”

She grew sad, pensive. “Wish I gave Jake a proper burial. He didn’t deserve that  _ cremation _ he got.” There was such pain, such  _ anger _ in her voice. Charles understood, how could he not? As he carved the first A, he thought about having to give others a tombstone. Dutch, John, Javier.

Arthur.

What would his grave look like? What would be good enough for him? A man that had meant so much to him in such a short amount of time...what would be deserving of him? Maybe some flowers, much like the one he kept in a jar near his bed. Even if he planted those flowers to cover the entirety of Lemoyne, it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.  
  
In even entertaining these thoughts, he felt a deep sense of dread in his stomach. It spread down to his toes. 

He thought of crashing waves.

He blinked. Before he knew it, he was done carving the last S. It was like his movements were on autopilot.

“I’ll dig now.” He said absently, sheathing his knife again. Sadie noticed the tone in his voice, but there was nothing that needed to be said.    
  
Charles dug the other three feet in the soft ground. The two of them gently placed Hosea’s covered body in the hole. As they finished up burying him, Sadie asked, “You want to say a few words?”

“Not sure anything I say would suffice.”

Sadie clicked her tongue. “I could say a prayer, I s’pose. I sure remember all the ones Jake used to recite.”

Charles put his hands behind his back. “Go on.”

Sadie said a prayer, a long prayer, but meaningful and touching. With the strange pronunciations of the lines, Charles figured that was how Jake used to say them. When she was done, she did the sign of the cross. Charles waited until she was done, and held up his head. He heard hoofprints. Taima and Sadie’s horse were still there, motionless.

They seemed to get louder and louder. Closer. Charles turned around. His eyes grew wide.

“ _ Beeve _ ?”

Arthur’s horse looked worse for wear. The hot Lemoyne sun was causing him to sweat something awful under his saddle. His head was low. He looked like he’d been walking for the past few days. Charles didn’t notice any difference in his usual gait, mercifully. He couldn’t imagine having to tell Arthur his horse didn’t make it.

_ If _ Arthur will make it back.

“Wait.” Sadie couldn’t help but smile. “ _ That’s _ the horse’s name?”

“Yeah, Arthur clammed up when I asked him why.”

Sadie gently strode over to Beeve, making her movements careful. “I doubt the name comes from an old flame.” She mused.

Charles thought about the other gang member’s horses. “...Do people name horses after lovers?” 

Sadie shrugged. “Dunno. Weirder things have happened.” 

“What’s your horse’s name?”

“Bob.”

Charles stifled a laugh. “Why that name?”

She looked at her horse. “I dunno! He just looks like a Bob to me.”

Charles looked at her horse as well. Bob didn’t look like a Bob to him, but there was no need to argue.

She pulled an apple out from her satchel, extending it to Beeve. Beeve nearly bit her hand off as he ate the entire apple. “Shit!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, although  _ Beeve _ needs somethin’ more than an apple and my fingers to eat.” She laughed.

“We should get back to camp.” Charles whistled for Taima. 

Sadie briefly looked back at Hosea’s understated grave. “Yeah, we should. You think Arthur’s horse will follow us?”

“I’m sure he recognizes me.” Charles climbed atop Taima. “He’s a smart horse.”

“I guess.” Sadie said, unconvinced. “Then again, he  _ did _ make it back to here.”

“See? I told you.” Charles smiled. He led the way back to camp. Behind him, he heard the sound of two horses following him.

\--

“Gonna go wash up.” Sadie announced. She had mud and dried blood on her hands. “Need anything?”

“No, you go on ahead.” He stepped off of Taima, then walked over to Beeve. “I might go hunting later, if you want to come along.”

“I’d be more than happy to do that, Mr. Smith!” She seemed genuinely pleased. It sure beat having to be on guard all night. “What were you thinkin’ about hunting?”   
  
Charles shrugged. “Somethin’ besides gators.”

“Ain’t much had a taste for ‘em, so I’m fine with that.” She flicked her braid behind her, previously stuck to her skin with sweat. “Come and find me when you wanna go.”

Charles nodded, focusing on getting Beeve untacked. His coat was soaked with sweat, as was the wool underside of the saddle. He took off the saddle, it feeling heavier than normal saddles. Curious, Charles crouched and searched the saddle bag.

Just as he thought, he found Arthur’s satchel stuffed inside. The bracelet he gave him shined in the sunlight. He tore his eyes away from the bracelet, like staring into the sun. 

“Mr. Smith!” He heard a nervous voice call out. Kieran. “I--is that you?”   
  
Charles picked up the saddle as he stood. Probably not a good thing to keep lying around the horses. “Yeah, it’s me. Arthur’s horse turned up. Could you take care of him?”   


Tenderly stepping past the other horses, he followed Charles’ voice. He all but bumped into Beeve’s flank. “I can’t see him, but I sure can  _ smell _ him.” He wrinkled up his nose.

“Yeah.” With his free hand, he grabbed the blanket off of Beeve. It made a sticky noise as the fabric peeled away from his back. “You don’t mind doing this?”

“Not at all.” He pulled out a sweat scraper from his back pocket. “I--I think I’d rather be with the horses right now, anyway.”

Charles pulled a face, but didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna set out Beeve’s blanket.”

Kieran nodded, swiping sweat off of Beeve’s side.

Instead of washing it, he let it lay out in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t like they had access to non-swampy water right now. He set the saddle down near the other horse tack. He took out Arthur’s satchel, wrapping the shoulder strap around the bag, trying to make it inconspicuous. He walked back to the sleeping quarters, tucking Arthur’s bag under his bed.

“Charles.” Lenny greeted. He seemed to have more energy in his voice. He was reading one of Jack’s Otis Miller books. It was either that or one of Dutch’s Evelyn Miller books, so it was an easy choice to make. He folded a corner of the page down and set it beside him.

“Lenny.” He walked over. “How are you holding up?”

“‘Bout as well as you can imagine.” He wiped some sweat off his brow with his shirt sleeve. “I’m trying to get away from the Reverend's medicine.”

Charles laughed slightly. “Say no more.”

“Y’know, I think he’s almost glad he has someone to siphon it off to. He seemed kinda upset when I turned it down earlier today.”

“I bet.” Charles’ eyes glanced at Lenny’s side. “Still hurt?”

“Could be worse.” He groaned. “I still can’t really get up to get food or nothin’.”

“You want me to get you--”

“Nah, Sean’s got me covered. He’s keepin’ an eye on me.”

They both laughed at the phrasing.

“Wish we had a newspaper. I want to know what the  _ fine _ reporters of St. Denis are saying about us.”

“I can only imagine what they’re writing.” Charles shook his head. “Sadie was just in the city, actually.”

Lenny gave Charles a peculiar look. “Why?”

He sat on the bed across from Lenny’s, then looked around briefly. He leaned forward. “She stole Hosea’s body from the morgue.”

Lenny didn’t know what to say for a moment. “She--she--I tell you, Mrs. Adler is somethin’ else.”  
  
“Tell me about it.” 

Sitting up a little bit more, Lenny asked, “Where’d she bury him?”   


“We buried him not far from Lakay.” He corrected. “That’s where we were just a bit ago.”

“Shame I couldn’t have helped.” He said with a lightness he hasn’t heard from him in a while.

“I was  _ going _ to say ‘maybe next time,’ but I don’t want to think about that. Not yet.”

“Me neither.”

Charles checked his watch. He figured he and Sadie could go out in the evening. “Do you need anything?”

“Nah, not right now.”

“Gonna get some rest,” he muttered, standing slowly to go back over to his bed.

“That’s a good idea.” Lenny laughed, returning to his Otis Miller book.

\--

Charles went to find Sadie around 9 p.m. She was sitting in the rocking chair (which was certainly looking worse for wear after all the recent moves), loading her rifle. “Oh good, I was afraid it was too late for you.”

“Not at all.” She said with a raspiness to her voice. Well, a raspiness that was more prominent than usual. “Not like we got anywhere to be in the mornin’.”

“Mm, I guess so.”    
  
Sadie looked up from her gun. “I should’ve asked you if a rifle was fine before I went through the trouble of cleanin’ it.”

Charles shrugged. “The Bayou’s an unpredictable place.” He wound his arm around his shoulder, much like Arthur did after his injury. “Ready to go?”

She stood from the chair, slinging the rifle onto her back. “Let me get my lantern.”

Charles took the time to light his lantern as well. “Keep it on the lowest lighting.”

When Sadie returned, lantern in hand, she looked ready. “Let’s see what the swamp has to offer us.”

“We could circle around Lagras before it turns into the marsh.” Charles said, looking at his map in the lantern’s light. “I’m sure there’s wild pigs we could hunt.”

“Mm, been a while since I had boar.”    
  
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” Charles pocketed his map, getting on Taima. 

“Oh, it’s somethin’ else, Mr. Smith. Real nutty, not too gamey.”

He had a hard time imagining the taste. "Sounds odd.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it is. But in a good way.”

The two of them rode out of camp, out to the water’s edge. Alligators hissed and groaned, drifting around the surface of the water, waiting for their next victim. 

“When did you start hunting?” Sadie asked, genuinely curious.   
  
“As soon as I was old enough to hold a bow.” He thought for a second, remembering his mother stringing up his first ever bow for his small hands. “My uncle taught me how to hunt and make my own arrows.”

“I always see you carvin’ somethin' at camp. Arrows?”

He nodded. “It helps pass the time, making them.” Charles smiled, thinking of leaving a bundle of poison-tipped arrows for Arthur back at Clemens Point. “It’s a good distraction.”

“Hm, might need you to teach me. Nowadays I need all the distraction I can get.”

“It’s a useful skill  _ everyone _ at camp should know.” There was a pause. “Maybe I’ll teach a class.” He laughed lightly.

“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that!” Sadie laughed, thinking about how the other camp members would fare learning how to make arrows. 

“You hunted much when you were--” Charles swallowed, “well, before all this?”

“Sure. Jake an’ I would go hunting. It was kinda like going on dates, or somethin’. Not like we had an opportunity to go on  _ normal _ dates.”

Despite his best efforts, Charles could only think of the time he spent hunting with Arthur. How his brain could recontextualize it all as a romantic outing. “That sounds nice.” He looked over at Sadie, who seemed forlorn at the thought of Jake.

The absence of their respective partners hung in the humid air.

The path narrowed. Sadie fell back to let Charles lead. 

“We should dismount soon. I’m sure there’s plenty of pigs to go around.”

Sadie agreed. They dismounted as the path got wider. Despite this, both Taima and Bob ran off at the noise of alligators.

“Wish they wouldn’t do that.” Charles muttered, watching them run off.

“Couple of pansies.” Sadie laughed, drawing her gun. “Which way do you want to go?”

Charles attached his lantern to his belt. “Let’s keep along the water’s edge.”

She nodded, crouching down. Charles did the same.

It was astounding all the noises they could hear, now with their vision slightly impaired. It was certainly louder than it was in the vast open plains of the Heartlands. Charles’ boots squished and suctioned in the mud as he walked along. Sadie kept to the path at the sight of this.

“First one to get a hog wins?” She whispered.

“Wins what?” Charles whispered back. 

She shrugged. “Bragging rights?”

“Not one to brag.” Charles muttered. “But sure.”

The two of them quieted back down, waiting for the first squeal of a wild boar. 

Charles saw a boar dart from one tall thicket to the next first. He lined up the shot at the head, to not spoil the meat with gunpowder. It was a clean shot. The boar fell into the mud.

Sadie groaned. “Oh come on!” She expressed her annoyance as quietly as she could. 

“It was luck.” Charles placated. He went to grab the carcass to bring it onto the path. He whistled for Taima, who reluctantly came trotting back with Bob in tow.   


“Luck, schmuck.” She spat. “Best two out of three?”

“It’s a deal.” He strapped the boar (surprisingly lighter than it looked) to the back of his horse. She waited until Charles turned his back, then trotted back to relative safety with Bob.

“Let me lead this time.”

Charles stopped, letting Sadie get in front of him. They walked along the path further. Focused on hearing the boar squeals, Charles didn’t even notice Sadie had stopped until he bumped into her.  
  
“Sorry--why did you?” He looked past Sadie’s shoulder. From one of the tall trees, a body was swaying from a rope in the muggy air. The moon shone upon the body like a spotlight, as if nature wanted them to find it.

Sadie walked towards the body. “Poor feller. Must have ran into some Raiders.”

“Mm, or worse.” Charles followed her. The body was strung pretty high up, easily more than nine feet off the ground.

“I think we should get him down.” Sadie said. “He might have some loot on him.”

“Hm,” Charles said. “I don’t like this.” He looked around, wondering if this was a trap.   
  
“I ain’t sayin' we gotta stay here and take our time. We can cut down the poor bastard and rob him, then toss him in the mud.” 

Charles sighed. He could tell there wasn’t much he could say to persuade her otherwise. He held out his hands for Sadie to step up and cut him down. “Make it quick.”

“Sorry my boots are all muddy.”

“I don’t mind, but just--”

“ _ Hurry up _ , I know.” She stepped atop his hands, then pulled out her knife. It seemed that she just sharpened it recently, because the rope cut like butter against the blade. The body fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Sadie patted him down. “Well, there’s ten bucks in his pocket.” She held up the dollar bills as proof. Her hands ran to the inside of the body’s vest. It was a note. “And a note!”

Charles looked around nervously. “Is that all?”

“Hold on.” She unfolded the note and started reading. “‘If you find this, I am dead. The  _ nite folk  _ haunted my dreams and now they haunt my waking hours too. I have tried to evade them but it is only a matter of time I feel before I am bested. The silence is overwhelming.” Then, after a pause, she read, “‘pray for me.’” She folded the note around the money and put it into her pocket. “Who the hell are the ‘nite folk?’”

Charles heard the sound of footsteps over his shoulder. “I think we’re about to find out.”

As if they were near the whole time, the so-called nite folk appeared in the light of the moon. Their skin was painted with a thick white paint. Their clothes were tattered. They were practically inhuman, silent in their movements. Adrenaline kicked in as Sadie and Charles fought them off, spending rounds on rounds on ammo that was meant for boars and rabbits. The nite folk seemed to keep coming, running from further up past Lagras. Some even seemed to emerge from the swamp. “Charles! What do we do?!” Sadie asked, panicked. Her gun clicked. She moved onto her other pistol, making each bullet count.

He whistled for Taima. He looked back to see a nite folk come dangerously close to Sadie with a machete. He tugged her back with the strap of her rifle, pulling her towards the horses. The two of them broke into a clumsy sprint, trying hard not to fall into the mud. As they climbed on their respective horses, Charles looked back. There were more nite folk gaining on them. Charles kicked at Taima’s sides, who was more than happy to gallop with Bob back to camp. Sadie continued to fire off precious rounds until they seemed to fall back. 

Sadie whooped at the sight of them retreating. “Looks like we’ll live to see another day, huh Charles?”

Charles slowed Taima down to a trot. It was unlikely the nite folk would spring on them again, or so he hoped. “By the skin of our teeth.”   


Noticing the edge in his tone, she slowed Bob next to his horse. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought you were just worried for no reason.”

“Hardly anything I do isn’t for no reason.” He chided.

“You can have the money, if that’s what you want.”   


“It’s--it’s not about the money.” Charles sighed. He never thought he would meet someone more stubborn than Arthur. “You can’t just  _ do _ things like that.”

“And what do you mean by that?” She seemed annoyed.    
  
“If I weren’t here, you would have ended up exactly like the man you cut down.”

Sadie was quiet for a moment. Charles’ frustration was coming from a place of care, and definitely not a place unfamiliar to him. “I--you’re right. I’m sorry, really.”

Charles wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “You can’t rely on impulse all the time. Hell,  _ most  _ of the time.”

“I know, I know.” She shook her head, feeling almost foolish she nearly got herself and Charles killed all for a paltry ten dollars. “Although I reckon no one else in the gang seems to know that either.”

Charles huffed out a laugh. “Careful who you say that to.”

“Yeah.” She laughed awkwardly. They trotted in silence for a bit. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

“Is the boar still safe?” Sadie looked at the carcass on the back of Taima.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Muddy, but fine.”

“Just like us, huh?”

Charles nodded his head, even though he felt like shaking it. “Sure.”

\--

When they got back to camp, most everyone was asleep. Karen and Sean were dozing by the fire, his head in her lap. Grimshaw was on guard duty, nipping at a cup of hot coffee to get her through the night. “Was wonderin’ where you two went.” She greeted as they dismounted. 

Charles slung the boar over his shoulder. “Mrs. Adler and I did some night hunting.”

Miss Grimshaw nodded as she sipped her coffee. “I heard quite a lot of gunfire out there.”

Charles and Sadie looked at each other. “Those wild hogs are tough to wrestle.” Sadie lied. 

“Sure are.” Charles cleared his throat.   
  
Susan seemed unconvinced, but she didn’t say anything. “Good night, you two.”

After she was out of earshot, Charles gave Sadie a look.   


“What?” She asked in a hushed tone. “The last thing we need is to have the camp freaking out over nite folk!”

Charles set the boar down on Pearson’s cutting board. “Let’s hope people don’t try to ride off.”

Sadie laughed humorlessly. “And go where?”

Charles shrugged. “Hopefully not to St. Denis.”

“I  _ doubt _ they will.” She reached in her pocket and gave him the money and the note. “Our spoils for tonight.”

Charles reluctantly took it. “Good night, Mrs. Adler.”

“Night.”

\--

_ The waves crashed over him, pushing further upshore. He felt the sun beating down on his bare skin. The water gave him a brief respite from the scorching heat. He blinked open his eyes. It was too bright to even get a good look at where he was. His tongue was raw, practically peeling at the dryness. Mustering all the strength he could, he rose to his feet. _

_ He was on an island. His feet sank into the wet sand. It seemed like he was the only one for miles. He stumbled, his muscles atrophied from him being washed up on the beach for so long.  _

_ How long has he been here? _

_ He walked along the shoreline. Over the sound of seagulls and waves, he heard wailing. It was manic and undignified. Charles tried to call out, but he couldn’t. He searched for the voice. Anyone that would help him. _

_ The wailing got louder, and louder. On the horizon, he saw a silhouette of a man. He walked toward him. _

_ It felt like the wailing was right by him. _

_ Almost like-- _

Charles opened his eyes. The yells and wails weren’t in his dream. He tugged on his boots to see what was going on.

“Hello? Anyone?” The weary voice called out. Other camp members gathered just outside the sleeping quarters. They heard Miss Grimshaw call out to the camp.

“Everyone,  _ come here! _ ” She screeched, panicked.    
  
Only a few of the camp members came forward, namely Charles, Sadie, Abigail, and Tilly. “What do you think it is?” Tilly asked, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Or  _ who _ ?”

As they walked to the edge of camp, they saw a sunburnt and disheveled man crumpled on the ground. He seemed to be weeping, his wails ceased. He looked up at them, squinting at the light of Miss Grimshaw’s lantern. 

It was Dutch. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whewww I am going to be honest, I hit a pretty big writing block when I was working through this chapter. I'm back on track though!
> 
> enjoy :)

The ladies made haste and set up a spot for Dutch to rest by the fire. Mary-Beth brought him some water, and Karen brought him some leftover stew. He ate it as if he were a starving dog. Speaking of dogs...he was looking worse for wear. His clothes were tattered all to hell, his skin was red like a lobster, his hair was stringy, his beard unkempt...it was as if someone chewed him up and spit him out. 

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Sean asked, sipping at a beer. 

“In--in due time.” Dutch said out of breath. It was like he was too tired to even process anything more than his meal. He wiped some stew out of the corners of his mouth. “When the men get back, maybe then I’ll regale you all with our tales of woe.” He took a drink. Despite his tiredness, he could feel the eyes on him. He needed to give the camp _something_. “We were in Guarma.”

“Guarma?” Pearson scrunched up his face. “Only heard horror stories from the navy.”

“Believe me, they’re all true.” Dutch set down his empty bowl and cup into the dirt. “Javier will be coming back soon, he was right behind me.”

“Javier’s okay?” Tilly asked, trying to tamper her excitement.

“Okay as any of us could be.” Dutch smoothed his messy hair back with his dirty hand. He needed pomade something awful. “Pretty sure Arthur, Bill and Micah will trickle back in slowly, unless bounty hunters caught them on the way back.”

Charles, arms folded, reflexively dug his nails into his biceps.

“Who found this place?” Dutch looked around, impressed they were able to be safe.

“Mrs. Adler did.” Charles spoke up. 

“Charles helped!” Sadie said in return. 

“Ah, of _course_ Charles helped. You all should have seen him on the docks.”

Charles nodded, smiling despite himself.

The camp heard a horse whinny just beyond the campfire light. Tilly made sure she was the first one out to check.

Javier nearly fell off his horse, almost too weak to stand.   
  
“Javier!” Tilly gasped, helping him up. Others ran to check on him. Miss Grimshaw ordered Karen and Mary-Beth to accommodate him with water and food.

Tilly looked into Javier’s eyes. She wasn’t even registering in his thousand yard stare. She brushed her hand on his cheek. New cuts and bruises adorned his face. His skin felt hot to the touch. Her stomach sank at the thought of the things he saw on Guarma. “Let me walk you to your bunk.”

Javier nodded absently, limping off past the campfire. The other ladies followed.

“Mr. Escuella was kidnapped by the military.” Dutch elaborated after Javier made his way inside. “Arthur and I had to save him.”

A somberness fell over the camp. There was a lot Dutch didn’t have the energy to say, but everyone could guess the atrocities that Javier faced.

“Dutch…” Abigail began softly. “John’s been arrested.”

Dutch nodded. “I know, Miss Roberts.”

“I--I heard they took him to Sisika. What are we gonna do?”

“I’m not too sure yet.” Dutch seemed annoyed to even be asked the question. “I need time to plan. And--and think about what we need to do.” He got up from his seat slowly, then made his way to the chair by the docks. 

Even from the campfire, Charles could tell Abigail was near tears. He walked over to her and whispered, “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded, sniffling. 

Charles went back to his bed. He wasn’t tired, a little too wound up to be tired, but laying down would be better than everything else, he supposed. He pulled his boots off, groaning as he laid back onto the mattress.

“Dutch is back?” Lenny muttered, still half asleep. He must have heard the commotion. 

“Javier as well.”

“Mm.” Lenny said. “I’ll greet them tomorrow mornin’.” He snuggled back in bed, tugging the sheet over him. 

“Do you want a hammock or a bunk?” Tilly asked Javier. The two of them were in the front room.

“Don’t matter to me.” Javier coughed. “Just need to sleep.”

“Mary-Beth and Karen are fetching you some food and water.” She said softly. 

Javier sat down on one of the hammocks with a long sigh. “They didn’t have to do that.”

“Can’t have you dying too, now.” Tilly put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to lay back. Javier obliged.

Mary-Beth and Karen delivered food and water to Tilly. “Jesus, Javier!” Karen gasped. “Guarma did a goddamn number on you!” Mary-Beth gasped, elbowing Karen in the ribs. “What, it’s true!”

Javier tried to laugh, but his sides were too bruised to even attempt it. “Thanks, Karen.”

“We should leave them _alone_.” Mary-Beth said to Karen sternly. 

“Nonsense, we could--” Karen started before she felt Mary-Beth’s arm wrap around her shoulder tightly. “Hey!”

“Good _night_ , you two.” Tilly waved them off as they both went to their bunks. She directed her attention to Javier. “You need help with eating?” 

“I can manage, unless you want to help.” Javier smiled.

Tilly smiled back, going to pull up a stool to set near the hammock.

Charles laid in bed, his hands behind his head. He wasn’t watching them, or trying not to at least, but the walls were thin. He shut his eyes, trying to fall back asleep. He couldn’t help but think about what Dutch said. 

_“Pretty sure Arthur, Bill, and Micah will trickle back in slowly, unless bounty hunters caught them on the way back.”_

He turned in his bed, facing the wall. He scratched at the peeling paint on the wood. It sounded like all of them escaped the island together, but maybe Dutch advised them to wait before they found the new temporary camp. Didn’t want to raise too much suspicion. 

But that meant Arthur was out there... _somewhere_ . If Dutch and Javier looked _this_ battered and sunburned, how would Arthur look? Will he be at death’s door, like how it was when he was tortured by the O’Driscolls, or will it be _worse_? Charles felt sick to his stomach. He picked away at the dried paint until the warped plank was bare. Sometime after that, he managed to drift asleep.

\--

He didn’t sleep too long _or_ too well. All he kept dreaming about was the sound of the crashing waves and a distant foghorn. 

When we got up, all he could think of was Arthur washed up on a beach.

It was just before dawn. He tugged on his pants and put on his boots. Charles crept down near Arthur’s satchel and grabbed his straight razor. He saw him shave a couple of times, although the blade still seemed sharp. Charles searched for his shears, remembering they were in Taima’s saddle bag. 

He crept through camp, everyone seeming to be asleep--

“Mr. Smith?” 

Dutch was still up, it seemed. Charles hid the razor in his pocket. “Dutch.” He greeted.

Dutch had a weird look in his eye. Delirium combined with insomnia and trauma. Charles figured it would be the same for the other men. “You and Mrs. Adler did well in finding this place.”

“We couldn’t have stayed in Shady Belle.”

“I know, I--I know.” He sighed, looking out at the water. “I heard the two of you buried Hosea?” There was a sadness in his voice, a weariness. Someone that lost a lifelong companion, trying to pick up the pieces to get out of this mess they were all in. 

“Yeah, just outside of this camp. Mrs. Adler said a prayer for him.”

“Mm, that’s nice.” He kept his gaze out at the water. “I’ll need to visit him sometime.”

“It’s not much of a grave, but we did what we could.”

“I’m sure it’s just fine.” Dutch sighed. “Miss Grimshaw told me Lenny pulled through.”

“Yeah, thankfully.”

“Good, we always need more manpower. Would’ve been a shame if we lost him on the rooftops.”

The tone was strange. To flip from somber to stern, even a little _callous_ , within a few seconds didn’t sit well with Charles. It seemed odd.

“I won’t keep you.” Dutch looked back at Charles. “What were you up to, anyway?”

Charles felt all too aware of the straight razor in his pocket. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well don’t go _too_ far, son. Never know when I’ll need you.”

Charles nodded as Dutch turned back to look out at the water. He seemed pensive, troubled. No need to ask him what he was planning.

As he walked out to Taima, discomfort settled in. Maybe now wasn’t the right time. He put the razor in his saddlebag and hoisted up on Taima. Beeve, looking a little less shaken, was standing next to her. “You keeping him company, girl?” He asked, patting her dappled side. He clicked his tongue as he rode out of camp. 

He wasn’t exactly sure where to go. Certainly, large parts of the state of Lemoyne were off-limits, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t...look around the bayou, right?

The sun was just starting to rise, a golden yellow cast over the tall trees. Just for a moment, Charles felt at peace. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled.

It felt like ages ago that he and Arthur were riding through this part of the bayou, trying to find Black Belle. He shook his head at the memory. How he longed for the easygoing days of when they were back in Rhodes.

Charles found the edge of a dock, watching the snowy egrets rest by the water’s edge. Roseate spoonbills joined the birds, dipping their beaks into the water. Charles didn’t dare let his feet dangle off the dock, for fear of his feet becoming an alligator’s breakfast.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he watched the birds fly and land, frolic and eat. It was so peaceful. 

He stayed until Taima whinnied at the sight of a little snake. “All right, girl. Let’s go.”

\--

Later that day, Charles helped Lenny get out of bed. 

He grimaced as Charles gently wrapped an arm around his waist. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Lenny sucked air through his teeth. “It’s fine.”

Once he was up out of bed, he was able to move slowly out of camp. He quietly walked past Javier’s hammock. He was still asleep. Tilly had a makeshift mattress next to his hammock.

“Lenny’s up!” Jack gasped, trying to make a run for him. 

“Now Jack, he’s still hurt, so don’t touch him!” Abigail said, pulling him back by the collar. Jack wriggled out of her grasp. 

The rest of the camp was happy to see Lenny made it through. Sean was accommodating, making sure to get Lenny some lunch. 

“I could have gotten that--” Lenny said, feeling a little embarrassed that people were waiting on him.

“Pah,” Sean exclaimed, bringing back some soup and a bread roll for him. “I’m sure you helped me out when I lost me eye.”

Lenny didn’t, but he didn’t say anything but “thanks.”

Charles watched the festivities, the livening of the camp’s spirits with Lenny’s return to health, until Sadie tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Afternoon, Sadie--” She tugged him by the shirt sleeve. “Hey!”

“I gotta talk to you ‘bout somethin’.”

“I was standing right _there_ \--”

“ _Away_ from camp.”

Charles sighed. What could it have been now? A pending O’Driscoll ambush? Pinkertons waiting outside of Lakay? The Raiders taking their revenge on the gang?

Sadie walked out past the horses. “Beat it, O’Driscoll!” She said to Kieran. 

“I told ya, I ain’t an--” Kieran started.

“Get!”  
  
“All right, I’m goin’.” He stepped out of the way of the two of them, clumsily bumping into the horses and apologizing.

“You don’t have to be so hard on him.” Charles muttered. 

She scoffed. “Man ran with Colm. He should be thankful every day he don’t have a bullet through his skull.”

Charles held up his hands to get her to calm down. There wasn’t much of a point in trying to get her to see Kieran differently, no matter how harmless he was. “What did you want to see me about?”

She pulled a few pieces of paper from her pocket. “First, I want ya to look at this.”

Charles squinted at the map. It was crudely drawn, almost as if it was traced from--

“I found an old map in Dutch’s stash. That’s Sisika.”

“...I see that. Probably well-guarded, maybe more than St. Denis’ prison.”

“Exactly!” She said excitedly. She handed him the next paper. It was a flyer for hot air balloon rides. “I also swiped this from the town square when I gathered Hosea.”

Charles put two and two together. He’d laugh if he didn’t know Sadie was so serious. “You want us to rescue John in a hot air balloon?”

Now Sadie laughed. “What?! No! We go _over_ Sisika in a balloon to get a look at the guards.”

“Right, how could I be so foolish?” Charles asked, tongue firmly in his cheek. He passed the pages back over to her. 

“Abigail is worried sick that they’ll be executing John or somethin’. I don’t think she’s been sleepin’ much.”

“Have any of us?”

“‘Sides Uncle, I don’t think so.” Sadie put the paper back in her back pocket. “I know Dutch ain’t gone to sleep since he came back.”

“He’s still awake?” 

“Sure is. He’s just been lookin’ out at the water, mutterin’ to himself.”

Charles grimaced. Maybe Guarma sapped him of his remaining sanity…

“I dunno when or _if_ Arthur will be back, but...if he ain’t back in time, you wanna tag along?”

“Sadie, I don’t--”

She shoved him lightly. “C’mon, I _swear_ it won’t be like when we encountered them nite folk!”

“Better not be.”

“It won’t be!”

“When were you planning?”

She shrugged. “A few days from now?”

“I hope he’ll be back by then.” Charles said quietly.

“We all do.” Sadie gave him a light pat on the arm. “I sure hope the _other_ two don’t make it back.”

Charles laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”

The two of them walked back to camp.

\--

Unfortunately, Micah came back that evening. 

Save for Dutch, there wasn’t much fanfare from the other camp members. “C’mon, where’s the welcome wagon? Where’s the champagne?!” He said incredulously, as if it was honestly hard to believe people weren’t thrilled to see him. 

“We’re waiting for everyone to get back,” Dutch said, stroking his beard. He hadn’t slept or showered since coming back to camp. 

Micah scoffed. “Well, Bill was right behind me. Had to shake down some people to find out where the camp was.”

Charles could hear Sadie grumble. All that work into the letter for nothing.

“Which people did you ‘shake down,’ Micah?” Dutch asked, growing paranoid. 

Micah picked at his beard. “Ah, just locals. I didn’t ask anyone important. I ain’t _that_ dumb.”

“You see Arthur anywhere?” Sean asked. Charles was glad he didn’t have to be the one for it.

“Oh,” he smirked. “He hasn’t made it back yet?”

Charles felt a pit in his stomach. 

“I ain’t seen him. Last I saw him was when we were on the boat.” Micah pulled out a flask, taking a swig. “Can’t say I miss ‘im.”

Sadie left the group, annoyed with Micah. She went inside to find Jack and Abigail. Charles crept off, hopping on Taima.

He found himself riding away from camp, not caring if the nite folk find him again. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to leave.

He saw a large figure stumbling through the moonlight. He drew his revolver, waiting for the figure to step closer. “Who’s there!” He yelled, raising his gun.

Bill froze and shakily held up his arms. “Jesus, Charles, it’s just me!”

Wordlessly, Charles put his gun away. “Camp is straight back that way.”

“Thanks for the _warm welcome_ ,” Bill scoffed, limping past him. “You lookin’ for Morgan?”

“What?” Charles asked, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

“Just seemed he ain’t gonna make it here.” Bill continued off without another word. 

Charles wanted to call out to him, but couldn’t. Besides, he knew that Bill and Micah were getting pretty cozy as of late. Surely Micah told him about Charles and Arthur being together. Bill didn’t exactly like Charles, and vice versa. Nevertheless, the pit in his stomach enveloped the rest of his torso. His breathing felt shallow. He weakly kicked at the sides of Taima.

He rode around the bayou for most of the night, eventually setting up camp near Black Belle’s old shack. 

In the light of the fire, he cut the sides of his hair with his shears, then carefully shaved the rest off with Arthur’s straight razor. With shaking hands, he braided the remainder of his hair, tying it off with twine. He rested on his bedroll, looking up at the stars. His hand absently stroked the side of his head, gently caressing the scars long since healed. 

He thought of Arthur.

\--

After a fitful night of sleep, he awoke in the early morning with his union suit stuck to his back. He groaned, tugging the fabric away from his skin. What a thing to wake up to. He rolled up his bedroll, tying it back onto Taima’s saddle.

“Well, girl…” Charles sighed. “Guess we should go back.”

She snorted in response.

As Charles was climbing onto her, he saw someone over in the distance. It looked like...they were flagging _him_ down?

“Excuse me!” The person said, striding over on their horse. As the person got closer, Charles realized it was someone that looked like him.That put him at ease. 

“Uh--how can I help you?” He asked awkwardly, tugging on the Taima’s reins.

“Is this the way to the city?” The man asked, pointing forward. He seemed young, younger than John. Maybe around Lenny’s age. He tucked a lock of his long brown hair behind his ear. 

Charles looked behind him. “Yeah, just follow this path and you’ll get there just fine.”

“Okay, thanks.” He continued slowly, almost as if he wanted to say something else. 

“Why are you going into the city?” Charles asked, curious.

The man stopped his horse, turning around. “It’s not by choice. My father asked me to go pick up some supplies.”

Charles tilted his head a little. “And it’s just you?”

“Yeah. I had to take the long way too. He’s been so paranoid about the army confiscating anything we pick up.” There was a bubbling of anger just under the surface, Charles heard it in the man’s tone.

He thought for a moment. “I think I should go with you.” 

He seemed taken aback by that. “What? You don’t know me--”

“I know, but it’s dangerous to carry supplies to--where do they need to go?”

“Uh--up in the mountains, way near Calumet Ravine. They keep moving us.”

“Wapiti?” Charles asked. He definitely remembered seeing the reservation closer to around Valentine maybe a decade ago. He unfortunately wasn’t surprised with the move.

“Yeah.” The man sighed. “You sure you want to help?”

Charles shrugged. “I offered. Besides, it’s not a one man job.”

“I would have asked Paytah to help, but…” He trailed off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Charles clicked his tongue, Taima trotting up to his horse.

“The name’s Eagle Flies.” He introduced himself. “Thanks for helping.” He seemed a little embarrassed to say it.

“Charles Smith.” He replied. “And don’t thank me just yet. We have a ways to go.”

“You’re the first person I’d seen in the past few hours.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Charles looked behind him. Not a soul to see for miles. “You rode through the bayou at _night_?” 

“Yeah? What’s the big deal?”

Charles laughed and shook his head. Maybe don’t immediately get into the topic of nite folk just yet. “Never mind. What stuff are we picking up?”

“Medical supplies, mostly. A lot of people at the reservation are getting sick.”

Charles glanced over at Eagle Flies, concerned. “Sorry to hear that.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if my father showed more initiative. Instead we’re wasting time at the mayor’s parties…” Eagle Flies scoffed.

“Wait…’mayor’s parties?’”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I had to go to one a month ago with him. Trying to elbow our way into _high society_.” 

Charles laughed. “That sounds familiar.”

He looked over at him quizzically. “Were you there?” 

“Nah, but a few of the people in my gang did.”

He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. “I’d say I’d be able to pick out crooks, but they’re all crooks, huh?”

“You’re not wrong.” They were getting closer to the city, just before the dirt roads switched over to cobblestone streets. “Well, if you saw a white man with slicked back hair and a big mustache, that’s the leader of my gang.”

“Yeah…that was most of the people there.”

He laughed again, although it seemed Eagle Flies wasn’t making a joke. “Fair enough.”

They rode down to the docks, Charles starting to feel a nervousness in his stomach. How long had it been since he’d been here? A few days? A few weeks? It seemed like just last night that he had to sprint behind crates and dive into the ocean. Like the salt water was still sticking to his clothes.

“Down this way.” Eagle Flies whispered, maneuvering through the dock workers and fishmongers. “The supply boat is kind of small.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Never alone. There’s this one man, Monroe, who normally gets it with me and someone else.”

Charles didn’t bother asking why that man wasn’t here now.

“It should be here soon.” He looked back at the clock. “Do you mind waiting?”

Charles folded his arms, standing up straight. “Don’t matter to me. If I were back at camp, I’d be waiting for something else.”

Eagle Flies shot him a look, but didn’t pry. “Where’s your camp now?”

He looked around him. There were lawmen _everywhere_. Thankfully he’d changed his look enough so they wouldn’t make him. “I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.”

The boat came in ten minutes later, the two men passing the time by people watching. Eagle Flies seemed to notice Charles clam up around all the lawmen, so it was probably best if they didn’t chat about anything serious.

“Hey, where’s Captain Monroe!” The captain of the ship (which was more like a tugboat) asked. He passed the canvas bags of medicine over to the two of them.

“Not sure!” Eagle Flies said. He stacked the bags in his arms, not being able to see over to the boat captain. 

“Least you got a friend here, right?” The man smiled as he tossed the last bag up to Charles. He nearly fell over with the weight.

“That’s all of them?” Eagle Flies called out over the pile of bags.

“Sure hope so.” Charles muttered, balancing the bags over his arms. 

“Until next week!” The captain waved at them. The two men couldn’t wave back.

Charles dragged the bags over to Taima, tying them and making sure they won’t be _too_ uncomfortable for her. The sooner they’d get out of here, the better. Just in case.

“You ready?” Eagle Flies asked, hoisting himself onto his horse. He seemed to handle the canvas bags better than Charles.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Are we going back through the bayou?” 

He sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

“We should get going.” Charles said, waiting for him to lead the way.   
Eagle Flies rode off first, maneuvering his horse through the crowds. Charles followed closely behind him.

When they got out of the city, Eagle Flies shot him a look. “What couldn’t you tell me back there?”

“Well,” Charles sighed riding alongside him, “Most things.”

“Like what?”

After debating for a while about what to tell him, he finally said, “We robbed the St. Denis bank. It didn’t go so well.”

“...’we?’” Was all Eagle Flies responded.

“Dutch--the man I mentioned earlier--and his right hand man Hosea, and--” Charles realized it was kind of a lot of information for someone he’d just met. “Well, the gang I run with was pretty much all involved. Hosea got killed, we had to flee the city…” He left out the part where some of the men took a ship to Guarma and how Charles almost drowned trying to escape the lawmen, but it was only an overview, he’d figured. “...So now we’re here.”

Eagle Flies nodded, his eyebrows raised. “That’s...something.”

“1899 has been a strange year.”

“You’ve been with them only a _year_?”

“Mm, less than that. Nearly a year.”

It seemed to boggle Eagle Flies’ mind. “I can’t imagine doing that. After my mother died, my father made sure I stayed close. It was only a few years ago he let me leave the reservation on my own.”

“He cares about you.” Charles stated. “He wants to keep you safe.”

“But he also needs to understand I’m not a child anymore.” 

He didn’t say anything, figuring it was a touchy subject for him. Now that Charles was a little bit older, he understood where his own parents were coming from when they didn’t let him run off on his own. 

They rode in silence for a while. Once they got out of the bayou, Eagle Flies asked, “What did you do before meeting up with this gang?”

Charles gave him the short version of his reservation’s displacement, his mother’s disappearance, and his father’s descent into alcoholism. Eagle Flies looked over at him somberly. “I’m...sorry to hear that, Charles.”

Charles nodded. “Thanks. It never really gets easier, you know? You just…” He trailed off, sighing. “You learn to deal with it.”

“You do. You have to, in order to survive.”

The conversation lulled again. Eagle Flies laughed awkwardly. “Guess we can talk about something lighter now.”

Charles laughed back. “It don’t matter to me.”

They talked lightly about the weather, the strangeness of St. Denis, the possibility of the horseless stagecoach (“It’ll never work.” Charles said, shaking his head.), the different landscapes and sights they saw riding around. There was still a somberness that hung over their heads. How long they had to travel back to the reservation. How the boat captain said they’ll see him next _week_. So many hours taken to get supplies and medicine to the reservation. 

“I can see why you were desperate for help.” Charles said, a playful edge to his voice.

“Not _desperate_.” Eagle Flies balked. “I was just happy to find someone to talk to.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a talker.” Charles said almost like an apology. 

“You’re fine. I’m not either.” After a beat, he said, “Although Paytah can get me to talk a mile a minute sometimes--” He had a slight smile on his face. 

“You mentioned him earlier.” Charles nudged. He didn’t think anything of it, not until he saw the smile on Eagle Flies’ face.

“He’s--he’s my best friend.” He cleared his throat. “He said he was busy with something, so he couldn’t help out today.”

Charles didn’t want to pry, so he waited. It looked like he had more to say, but he was working through which thoughts to filter and cleanse.

“I just--we’ve known each other for a long time, but I don’t get him. He said he ‘needed some time to think about things.’”

“Did anything happen recently?”

“I--we just--it--it doesn’t matter.” He seemed distracted by the thoughts he couldn’t say. “He’s been _strange_ lately, is all.”

Charles could only think about how Arthur pulled away from him in the cornfields. “He’ll come around.”

“Hope so.”

“He can’t avoid you forever.”

Eagle Flies huffed out a laugh. “He sure is acting like it.”

“Don’t worry.” Charles looked over at him. “It’ll all work out.”

\--

It took most of the day to get up to the reservation. By the evening, they dismounted and unloaded the supplies for it to be dispersed through camp. “Not a moment too soon.” An elderly man walked up to Eagle Flies and Charles. “Who is this?”

“Charles Smith,” Eagle Flies grunted, getting the last bag off of his horse. “He helped me find my way back.”

The man seemed pleased by this. He grasped Charles’ hand in his own. “Rains Fall,” he greeted. “Thank you for helping my son.”

“No problem.” Charles nodded. He looked to find Eagle Flies again, already out of sight. “I’m surprised he was alone to haul all of this.”   
  
Rains Fall grit his jaw. “I’m sure he told you all about how the military is disrupting everything?”

“Afraid I have.”

He sighed. “We just have to take things one day at a time. Captain Monroe will be back to assist us soon enough.” 

Charles sincerely hoped that was the case. 

“Thanks again for the help. I suppose I should give you something--” He patted his pockets for spare change. Charles held up his hand. 

“No, please. I’m just doing what I can.”

He smiled softly back at him. “Thank you. I hope our paths cross again.”

“I think they will.” Charles smiled, giving a slight wave. “Take care.”

He rode out of the reservation, looking back at everyone going through the large canvas bags, passing out the supplies as needed. He felt a tightness in his throat as he turned to focus on getting down the mountain.

\--

He didn’t get back to Lakay until well past midnight. He’d been so busy that he forgot to eat. His stomach rumbled something awful. There was probably some leftover stew, loathe as he was to have stew _again_. If nothing else, it would be something to fill his stomach.

A few of the usual suspects were up. Uncle was trying to boost morale by playing the banjo. Karen sang along, swaying slightly. Lenny was up, walking around stiltedly. 

“Need help?” Charles asked as he scraped the stew out of the cauldron. It was cold, with a skin developing over the top of the stew.

“No, I’m good. Just need to _relieve_ myself is all.” He slowly walked past him. “Nice haircut, by the way.”

Charles laughed. “Thanks.”

“This heat getting to you?” Sean called out, noticing Lenny and Charles talking.

“Something like that.” He took a bite of cold stew. It seemed that Pearson used the boar that he and Sadie hunted recently. It didn’t taste half bad.

He returned to his bed, his sit bones too pained to bear sitting on the log outside. Javier was sleeping, his hand draped down over the hammock near Tilly’s hand. Jack slept curled up next to Abigail, gripping his Otis Miller book to his chest. Sadie was nearby, writing something in her journal. 

This was all the new normal. Charles sighed, sitting up in bed as he ate his stew. When he was done, he rested the bowl just under the bedframe. He wanted to sleep, _tried_ to sleep, but it didn’t seem right. Something seemed... _off_.

Maybe twenty minutes later, he heard some commotion outside, some yells. Not bad yells, more excited. It sounded like they were saying--

Charles ran out of the building, his sit bones and thighs killing him. 

Everyone outside was trading hugs with Arthur, Charles tried to get a good look at him, but there were too many people surrounding him in the campfire light.

When Arthur broke his gentle hug with Lenny, he saw Charles. Arthur gasped slightly. He staggered over to Charles, barefoot.

“Charles--” He wheezed. Charles pulled him in for a tight hug. Arthur inhaled through his teeth sharply. “Ahh--ah--” Charles loosened his grip on him, placing a soft hand on the back of his neck. His skin was burning. Charles buried his face into Arthur’s clothes. He smelled awful, but Charles didn’t care. He was here, he was safe--

“I missed you.” Arthur muttered. 

“Missed you--” Charles said, turning his head sideways. He never wanted to let go. He heard Arthur’s ragged breathing, his elevated heartbeat. He could feel his bones under his skin. Fear and worry set into his heart. He pushed Arthur back slightly, trying to get a better look at him. 

He didn’t look well.

“Arthur--” Charles started. He could feel eyes on him. 

Arthur motioned to the side of his head. “That’s new. I like it.”

“Yeah, I--I’ll tell you about it later.” He said dejectedly. Arthur squeezed his shoulder gently before walking past him and into the sleeping quarters.

“Looks like the gang’s all here again!” Sean whooped, raising his glass.

 _Then why don’t I feel any better?_ Charles wondered as he followed Arthur through the camp.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are the beds comfy?” Arthur asked, keeping his voice low to let the others continue to sleep. It was dark in the cabin. Charles led the way.   


Charles shrugged. “If you don’t mind the straw poking you, sure.”

“Well, I ain’t had much sleep since the robbery.” Arthur slowly sat down on his bed, groaning and wincing. “Or food, or a bath...unless you consider bein’ dipped in the ocean as such.”

“Can’t say I do.” He sat across from Arthur, eyeing his face. His cheeks were sunken in, skin peeling, bruises showing under his sunburned skin. He looked like hell. Charles could tell Arthur was trying to stay upbeat, treating this time as a much needed respite. Even though he  _ knew _ they weren’t out of the woods yet. But for now, Charles could play make-believe with him.

“You see Dutch around anywhere?”

“He wasn’t out by the swamp? That’s where he’s been since he got back a few days ago.” Charles tried to look out the frosted window to find Dutch. “I don’t think he’s slept.”

“Mm.” Arthur seemed pensive. “Guarma  _ changed _ him.”

At first Charles figured he was asking for him so Arthur could greet him, but now it seemed like he wanted to avoid him. “Changed how?”

Arthur sighed, running his fingers over his swollen and scabbed knuckles. “Not sure if I should say now.” He seemed cagey at the thought of Dutch. With the crazed look in his eye, Charles couldn’t exactly blame him. “How you been?”

“Besides worrying about you?” Charles asked honestly. “Okay, I suppose. Me and Sadie have been getting along. She’s certainly something else.”

Arthur nodded, smiling. “She sure is. A little too wild, but she’s got good intentions.”

Charles debated telling him about the hot air balloon. “You know John’s in Sisika, right?”

“Shit, he is?”

Charles nodded. “Abigail has been really distraught.”

Arthur sighed. “Lemme guess, Dutch ain’t hatched a plan to get him yet?”

“No, but Sadie has.” After a beat, he elaborated. “She wants to fly a hot air balloon over the island to see if he’s there.”

Arthur wheezed out a laugh, which quickly turned into a violent cough. His face only got redder. Charles got out his canteen, unscrewing the cap and shoving it into his hands.    
  
Arthur took a gulp, trying desperately to stifle his cough. Finally, he got it under control. “Thank you.” He held it out for Charles to take from him. 

“Keep the canteen near you. You’ll probably need it again.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He screwed the cap back on, placing it next to his pillow. 

“You need to rest.”

“I know I do. I just--” He cleared his throat, stifling his cough from acting up again. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Same to you.” Charles smiled. 

Arthur unbuttoned his shirt. “Can’t believe these clothes lasted this far.”

“Me neither.” Charles slung his braid around his shoulder, laying back slowly. He passively watched Arthur take off his shirt and pants. “Where’d your shoes go?”

“Lost ‘em in the ship wreck.” He said it with all the casualness of talking about supper.

Charles laughed a little at the frankness. “You’re going to have to tell me everything.”

“When I get the chance, I will.” Arthur lowered himself onto the bed, grunting and sighing in pain. “I wanna make up for lost time.”

He knew what he meant by that. “I do too.”

Arthur extended his hand. The beds were  _ just _ close enough that Charles could reach and take his hand in his own. “Love you,” he said in a voice quieter than a whisper. Something he never thought he would hear again from Arthur.

“Love you too,” Charles responded just as quietly.

They dozed off, their fingers touching slightly. 

\--

Arthur felt the bed sway in his sleep. He heard the rushing of water, the flicker of the boat’s lights up above. Dutch’s heavy hand shook him violently.

“Arthur, get up.” He whispered fiercely. His dirty hands squeezed his still tender shoulder.

Arthur awoke with a gasp, his muscles tense. He wasn’t on the ship. His eyes adjusted to the sight of Dutch before him. “Dutch, what--what time is it?”

“We gotta move soon, or else the Pinkertons will find us.” Arthur could see Dutch’s unfocused eyes dart across his face. “Find a place.”

Arthur groaned, rubbing his eyes with his scabbed hands. There wasn’t even enough time for sleep to form in the corners. “And where will that be?”

Dutch thought for a moment. “There’s a place, up near Butcher Creek. A cave. We’ll stay there.”

“Christ, Dutch, that’s a ways--”

“Don’t start  _ whining _ Arthur.” He rolled his eyes and stood over Arthur’s bunk. “Just do it.” He left the cabin.

Arthur collapsed back in his bed. He didn’t know what time it was, but it certainly wasn’t morning. 

Charles turned in his sleep, groaning a little.

He felt his eyes get heavy again, and he was back to sleep before he knew it.

A couple hours later, he felt someone kick the bed frame. “Why are you still here?!” Dutch asked, barely above a whisper. He was trying hard to contain his anger.

“What the hell’s your problem, Dutch?” Arthur responded, slightly louder. He wheezed and coughed as he sat up. 

“Do you not  _ realize  _ we’re sitting ducks here? Do you want us to get killed?”

Arthur scoffed. “‘Course not--”

“Then  _ get. Out _ .”

Arthur took a long look at Dutch. “Have you slept since you got back?”

Dutch huffed. “Don’t do that. You sound…” He sighed deeply. “Like Hosea.”

It seemed Arthur got his answer. “I’ll--I’ll get goin’, okay?”

“Sooner you get moving, the sooner we can leave.” Dutch stomped out of the cabin, this time exiting to the back. 

Arthur pulled out a clean pair of underwear and a semi-clean outfit. He was trying to be as quiet as possible.    
  
“Going somewhere?” Charles asked, still very much asleep.

“Yeah, uh--” Arthur pulled on his boots. It felt good to have shoes on his blistered feet, cushioned by clean socks. “Will you…”

Charles opened his eyes a little, slightly more awake.    
  
“Will you ride with me?”

“Always.” Charles said, as if it was the most obvious answer possible. He stretched one last time before getting up. “Where are we going?”

“Up past Butcher Creek.”

Charles’ sleepy and slightly dopey expression changed to a stern one. “That’s...Murfree Brood country.”

“Yeah.” Arthur slung his satchel around his shoulder, a familiar weight he missed after being away from it for so long. “It’s why I’m askin’ you to ride with me.”

Charles tugged on a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. “Gimme a minute, I’ll be ready.”

“Take your time.” Arthur said, wincing as he stood up. Muscles that he didn’t even know he had were sore. He tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like there was a mix of ocean water and mucus in his throat, no matter how hard he tried to hack it out. 

“Won’t be long.” Charles said quietly. 

Arthur walked out to the horses, eager to see if Beeve made it back. He didn’t bother to look last night as he was too distracted with everyone else being there to greet him. Beeve was there, his coat possibly shinier and healthier than when he left him. Not a scratch on him. He’d been taken care of. “Hey boy,” he greeted, patting him on the withers and giving him an oatcake from his bag. Even the saddle blanket looked clean. “You go on a vacation too?” He asked Beeve, stroking his velvety nose.

“Mister Morgan,” Kieran greeted timidly. He had a bedroll set up near the horses. “Glad you’re back.”

“You took mighty fine care of my horse,” Arthur said softly. He looked over at Kieran. Gone were the bandages around his eyes. The swelling and weeping of the wounds had gone down enough that Kieran could look like he had his eyes closed. Only after looking at him too long would you notice his eye cavities were sunken in, the eyelids pulling in towards his sockets. Arthur looked away from him.

“Charles told me to. A-and I saw the shape he was in. Weren’t nothing a good brushin’ and some oatcakes couldn’t fix.”

Arthur smiled at Beeve. “If I had a dollar to my name, I’d pay you as a thanks.”

“It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.” He laughed lightly. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you rest. We’re movin’ later today.”

“Oh,” Kieran said in a sad tone. 

“Unless you wanna stay here, then by all means--”

Kieran shook his head. “Don’t want that neither!”

Arthur laughed. “That’s what I thought.” He grabbed both Beeve’s and Taima’s reins. “Thought I’d give ya a heads up.”

“Appreciate it, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur walked a little outside the horses’ pen. Surely Charles would be ready by now…

\--

Sadie was just starting to wake up, sipping at her coffee. She brewed it much too weak. It was a bad night of sleep, so she decided to start the day early. After hearing a door close behind her, she turned around. It was Charles, who was still trying to buckle up his belt. “You’re up early.”

“Arthur asked me to help him scout a new place.” He finally adjusted his belt.

“Oh? And where can we  _ possibly _ go for that?”

“I think...it’s just going to be Arthur and I.”

Sadie cast a glance over to Charles. “I saw him last night. He ain’t lookin’ too good. Like he’s gonna collapse at any minute.”

“Yeah,” Charles sighed. “I know.”

“ _ So _ \--” Sadie dumped out her weak coffee into the grass. “I’ll come with you.”

“Sadie, don’t--”

“Where are we heading?” She asked, her hand at her side.   


Sighing slightly, he said, “Beaver Hollow.”

“Where the hell is  _ that _ ?”

“A long ways from here. Murfree Brood country.”

“...Dunno who those fellers are, but are we talking ‘bout some nite folk type stuff?”

Charles shook his head. “ _ Worse _ .”

Sadie raised her eyebrows. “...I’ll get ready.”

He saw Arthur near the horses. It looked like he was talking to Kieran. He walked over.

“There you are!” Arthur said, holding out Taima’s reins for him to take. 

“Sadie’s coming with us.” Charles said. 

“She--why?”

“She wanted to help.”

Arthur nodded, clenching his jaw a little. “Might change the dynamic a little.” He sounded a little sad at this news. 

Charles sighed, looking back over at Sadie, who was gathering her things. “She knows.”

His eyes grew wide, understanding what Charles meant instantly. “She  _ knows _ ? What, did Micah tell her?

Charles scoffed. “I’m pretty sure she figured it out herself.”

“Oh, I--” He stopped, eyes catching to see Sadie come over. She was armed to the gills, so to speak. 

“Ready to go, gentlemen?” She asked, tugging on her hat.

They both nodded.

\--

“Wish we weren’t travelin’ out so early.” Sadie yawned. “But I s’pose we gotta get out of this place.”

“Yeah, who knows when Pinkertons’ll be on our trail.” Arthur led the way. It was still dark enough to need his lantern out. He attached it to his saddle. “How in the hell did y’all find this spot anyway?”

Charles and Sadie looked at each other. “Through chance, I guess.” Sadie finally answered.

“Raiders were squatting in this spot before us.”

Arthur chuckled. “Well, I’m sure they gave up this spot  _ willingly _ , right?”

Sadie laughed dryly. “They were easily swayed.”

“Heh, I bet.” Arthur shook his head. They rode through a patch of dense trees, the bark almost a blood red.    


“What  _ happened _ on Guarma, Arthur?” Sadie pressed. “I ain’t heard much from any of the other men.”

Arthur sighed deeply, his throat clogged with phlegm. He spat out some mucus. “What do you want to know? The shipwreck, us gettin’ captured, me gettin’ tortured, us joinin’ up with some freedom fighters, or how we even got back in one piece?”

“...All of it?” Sadie asked after some time.

Charles’ heart was too lodged in his throat to speak. 

Arthur looked back at the two of them. “Ain’t much to say, really. It was a goddamn nightmare, every part of it. Changed us all, and for some...it maybe ruined us.” 

Both Charles and Sadie knew he was talking about one man in that instance. 

“Arthur…” Charles sighed.

“I’m still here, by some grace of...hell, I dunno...god, or whatever. Or the devil. Can’t be so sure.”

They rode on for a while, none of them knowing what to say.

“Charles and I buried Hosea.” Sadie said softly. 

“Did you, now?” Arthur asked in a sad tone.

Charles jumped in. “Just out of Lakay, actually. It ain’t much of a grave, but...we gave him a proper burial.” 

“I even said a prayer that my Jakey used to say.”

Arthur nodded, keeping the brim of his hat low. “That’s real nice that you did that.”

“It was the least we could do.”

“But thoughtful, nonetheless.” A pause. “Although I’m sure there’s a story of how you got his body.”

Sadie laughed. “Maybe I’ll tell you two the full story sometime over drinks.”

“I’d like that.” Arthur laughed.

“If we’ll ever get _back_ to a bar,” Charles muttered.

The sun started to rise as they got out of the marshlands. After putting his lantern away, Arthur rode along the river on the lookout for something. “Charles, ain’t there a boat launch somewhere ‘round here?”

“I think it’s up further. Want me to lead the way?”

“By all means.” Arthur slowed his horse down, letting Charles ride along the river bank. “Way I see it,” he continued, “Is that we can take a canoe up to Butcher Creek, then maybe find some horses or walk up to Beaver Hollow. Or, if you ain’t in the mood for rowin’, we could ride up there.”

“Whichever you two take, I’ll do the other.”

“Oh Sadie, that ain’t necessary--”

“Mister Morgan,” Sadie said pointedly, “I think the two of you should have some time together. I’ll be fine on my own for a while and you know that.”

Arthur looked up at Charles, who cast a glance at him. He looked so beautiful in the morning light, the golden sun hitting his face. His braid swaying as Taima trotted along… 

Sadie offering this was truly a blessing.

He finally gave Sadie a nod. “You know where to go, right?”

“Sure do.”

“The boat launch is up ahead!” Charles called out. 

“I could take your horses too. Might as well.”

“You’re too kind.” Charles said, slowing Taima to a stop. He gathered up his bow and arrows, slinging it over his shoulder. “You’re sure?”

She shrugged. “Why not? ‘Sides, who’s gonna mess with someone who has  _ three _ horses?”

Arthur smirked at that as he dismounted. He grabbed Charles’ old bow as well. 

After fastening both Beeve and Taima to Sadie’s saddle, the two of them got in the canoe. “See you at Butcher’s Creek.” 

“Have fun, you two!” Sadie said lightly, giving them a wave as they rowed off.

“Hope she don’t beat us there.” Arthur said, grabbing a paddle. His legs were sore, being tucked under him like this, but he’ll manage.

“We’ll be fine,” Charles placated. He spoke so softly, as if Arthur was the only person in the world. “Let’s just enjoy this time.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Arthur took the right side of the canoe and Charles took the left. Kamassa River’s waters were calm, at least for now. Arthur kept his upper body still as he rowed, afraid of capsizing. 

At least with this time, he wouldn’t have a body full of salt water.

“So.” Charles said. 

“So.”

“Is it too soon to ask about Guarma?”

“You asked me earlier.”

“Sadie asked you. I was just there.”

Arthur sighed. “You want the unabridged version?”

“We have time.”

“First,” Arthur pushed the canoe away from a rock, “You gotta tell me about how you made it out of St. Denis.”

Charles thought for a second about that moment. How he squeezed Arthur’s hand before running past lawmen. “Well, I ran and hid behind some shipping crates. I had to slice one of the lawmen’s hamstrings to get past them.”

“Shit, Charles--”

“Oh, that’s not all. They were closing in on me, and I had to swim in the ocean. I nearly drowned, but...I made it.”

“How did--you weren’t spotted?”

“I clung to the docks for my dear life. The lawmen eventually gave up on finding me. They probably thought I was dead.”

Arthur was quiet for a long stretch. “When you--when you ran off...I really thought I lost you.” He said it so timidly, as if it was embarrassing to even admit. 

“You think I’d be bested by some policemen?” Charles looked back at Arthur, then quickly turned around again as the canoe was rocking. 

“I was just...real worried about you, y’know? Like I was on that island--” His voice cracked a little. “And I was tied to this chair as some feller was beatin’ the everloving shit out of me--” He focused on the sound of the paddle in the water to prevent himself from breaking down. “And I was just thinkin’ ‘why don’t they just kill me? Why don’t  _ I  _ just die?’” 

Charles couldn’t bear to take his eyes away from the river ahead of him. He waited, and waited.

“But I didn’t. I just kept on... _ being _ . Because I had to. Because--” Arthur switched his paddle to the other side, if only for a stroke to keep them out of harm’s way. “Because I held on to a single shred of  _ hope _ , of goddamn foolishness, that you’d still be alive.” He tried to breathe a steadying breath, only coming up with more phlegm. He spat it out into the water. “And...and you were. And I couldn’t be happier that you are.” He sniffled, the boat rocking slightly as he rubbed his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

“Arthur,” Charles said softly, looking back at him. “I thought the same for you.” He turned back around, paddling up the river. It was going to get more intense from here. “Day in and day out, I  _ waited _ . I kept trying to find distractions, but I just felt... _ helpless _ . I dreamt about you, you know? About you roasting on a beach. I  _ felt _ the rays of the sun in my dream. Although thinking back on it, it was more like a nightmare.”

“Charles, I--I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Charles shook his head, his braid swaying back and forth. “Then Dutch came back, then Javier. No one seemed to know where you were. I really thought--” He sighed. “I really thought you died.” He said the last sentence barely audible over the rushing water.

“Wait,” Arthur said, looking up, “is that why you--your hair?”

He could see Charles nod.

“I’m sorry. Shit, I’m--I’m sorry I worried you--”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He said a little bit more sternly. “I just...there’s so much I don’t know about with you. What you had to go through. And I understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but--” He took a shallow breath. It felt like the river was going to swallow him whole.

The two men were quiet for a long time. Padding occasionally to go against the current. 

“I wish I could just hold you right now.” Arthur said softly.

Charles nodded, gripping the paddle’s handle. “I know.”

He glanced back to see Arthur rest his paddle on the rim of the canoe. He extended his hand forward. Charles did the same, taking Arthur’s hand in his.

“We’re both here now.” Arthur said.

Charles squeezed Arthur’s hand. It felt cold despite the humidity. 

“I’ll tell you ‘bout Guarma when I’m ready. All of it.”

“That’s all I ask.” After a beat, he said, “River’s going to get more winding.”

“Sure.”  _ Shoar. _ “Better stay focused, then.”

They both picked up their paddles again, rowing a little faster now. 

In a desperate attempt to change the conversation, Charles said, “You know, I helped out the Wapiti tribe while you were gone.”

“You did, huh? I saw ‘em at the Mayor’s party. Bronte made sure to say some nasty shit to them in Italian.”

“You speak Italian?”

“Nah, I could just tell, though.”

“I certainly don’t doubt you. Anyway, I saw Eagle Flies on his way to the city. He was alone.”

“That ain’t good…”

“We had to pick up some supplies and bring it back to the reservation. They’re in a  _ bad _ way.”

Arthur shook his head. “Shit, I’m afraid it’s only gonna get worse for ‘em.” 

“It probably will, if the military has anything to say about it.” 

“If I can pry myself away from Dutch, I’ll certainly pay ‘em a visit.”

“You know where the reservation is?”

“Yeah, I helped ‘em out once before. It’s the least I could do.”

“Hm, I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” Charles started paddling to the right. “Big rock up ahead.”

“Shit--” Arthur paddled on his side as well.

They just managed to pass around the rock in the water in time. The landscape was certainly changing, and fast.

“Guess we should keep our conversation to a minimum.” Arthur laughed, despite wanting nothing more than to talk to Charles.    
  
“Probably for the best.” Charles’ paddling moved back over to the left.

\-- 

Arthur’s paddle pushed past a dead fish. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“Keep findin’ dead fish ‘round this pond.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah, but it’s been four fish or so. Does that sound odd to ya?”   


Charles shrugged, probably more focused on dealing with the Murfree Brood than some fish. “I guess.”

As they paddled up closer to the shore, Arthur saw a squirrel skitter across the mud. The squirrel looked bony, its fur just as thin. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d make a point to draw the squirrel in his journal. Maybe, since their next camp will be around these parts, he could return back to Elysian Pool.

Sure enough, Sadie was waiting for them by the waterfall. She didn’t seem too upset that she was waiting, casually eating an apple as she watched them paddle up. 

“Was wondering when you two would come by.” She said, her mouth full of apple.

“Were you waiting here long?” Charles asked, grimacing as he stretched his legs. He raised his arms over head and he could have sworn he heard something crack.

“Nah, I’m just pullin’ your leg. I’ve only been here ‘bout ten minutes.”

Arthur was slow getting out of the canoe. His muscles and bones were creaking worse than they normally would be. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Charles asked, eyes soft.

“Sure, just peachy.” He let out a dry cough, finally standing up straight. He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his groan. “Did Beeve cause a fuss?”

Sadie tossed her spent apple. “He was a gentleman, don’t you worry.”

Charles and Arthur walked over to their respective horses. “Butcher’s Creek is just up this path,” Charles said, pointing up the winding dirt road. “We need to keep a low profile.”

“Low profile is my middle name.” Sadie said. Charles and Arthur shared a dismissive glance as her back was turned. “You lead the way, Mister Smith.”

Charles rode on ahead, keeping Taima’s trot quiet. It was an overcast day made all the more gloomy by the inhabitants of Butcher’s Creek. “If you know what’s good for you,” someone sneered, “then you’d better turn around!”

The three of them paid no mind, not bearing to look out at the ramshackle buildings and the less-than-pleasant folk. A stray dog, covered in scabs and mange, ran alongside them. “Git back here!” An old man called out, and the dog ran back. 

“Was worried I’d need to throw him some venison.” Arthur laughed.    
  
“Might need to save that for the Murfree Brood.” Charles muttered. 

“What, they only eat meat?”

“Something like that…” Charles trailed off.

They rode up the path, the mood changing. It somehow seemed to get  _ darker _ . Like any light was sucked out of the sky. 

Arthur was the first to address this. “Ain’t too much of a welcoming place, is it?”

Charles turned his head slightly to look back at Sadie and Arthur. “You know, when I went into St Denis, I saw a newspaper headline of a stagecoach that went missing ‘round here.” 

Arthur grumbled. “That don’t sound good.”

“Can’t imagine these  _ gentlemen  _ will be too happy we’re ransacking their home,” Sadie said.

“I doubt they all live there. Sounds like they’re spread all through this area.”

Arthur laughed humorlessly, “So you’re sayin’ we should be real careful?”

“Thought we were already doing that.” Charles tried to sound playful. He caught the flicker of a flame up along the path. “You see those torches up ahead?”

“You think that’s them?” Sadie asked, her voice quiet.

“Can’t be sure from this far away. Let’s ride a little closer.”

“Should prolly dismount,” Arthur scratched his beard. “Sneak through the woods.”

Charles looked back, slowing Taima. “You sure?”

“Might be easier, is all.”

Charles tugged his reins to the right, leading Taima off the trail. The other two followed.

Arthur was the last to dismount, almost stumbling as he got his foot out of the stirrup. 

“Arthur?” Charles asked in a whisper.

“M’fine, you lead the way.” He slung his repeater around him. 

“Stay low.” Charles said, motioning downward with his hands. “And be quiet.”

The three of them crept past the bushes and tall pines. It was dark now, practically night. Arthur wasn’t aware of the time, but it seemed too early for it to be this dark. The torches disappeared behind a steep hill. 

As they got over the crest of the hill, Charles found a quick hideout behind a tree. “They’ve stopped.” He held out his hand for Sadie and Arthur to stay there.

“How come I always gotta do the carryin’?” One of the men whined.

“It’s how it’s  _ always  _ been.  _ You  _ carry, I lead!”

The bickering continued. Charles motioned for the two to come closer.

“We should probably take care of them here. Looks like the cave is just up ahead.”

“I got one.” Arthur said, taking out his throwing knives. He tried to flip it in his hand, but his fingers fumbled and it fell into the dirt.

“You sure?” Sadie asked warily.

“I’m sure!” Arthur said frustratedly, struggling to find his blade in the dark. “Ah, whatever. I got more.”

“Arthur, c’mon.” Charles urged gently. “I got the other.”

Arthur aimed and threw his knife. It landed far past the two men.

“What the hell was--” The man started to say before Charles threw his knife into the man’s neck.

“There’s someone here!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake--” Sadie found the cast off blade and hit the man square in the chest. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes. 

“Thanks,” Arthur said reluctantly.

“I’ll get the next ones, okay?” She patted him on the shoulder. “You ready Charles?”

“So long as you are.”

“Let’s get a view from the top of the hill.” Arthur said, trying to make himself more useful. “You brought your binoculars, Charles?”   
  
“Of course.” Charles took them from out of his satchel, then surveyed the cave. “Shit, there’s the stagecoach that went missing.”

Arthur motioned for Charles to pass the binoculars over to him. He got a look for himself. “Jesus,” He muttered, looking at the upsetting amalgamation of body parts. Surely they weren’t all from the same person? Was it a pagan ritual of some sort? Arthur got a pit in his stomach. “We better hurry, although I doubt there’s much hope for any survivors from the stagecoach. He passed the binoculars over to Sadie, who recoiled from the scene. 

“Shit, this certainly ain’t any nite folk nonsense!”

Arthur looked over at Charles, who gave him an “I’ll tell you later” look.

“Well, we could either head into the cave, or flush ‘em out with dynamite.” Charles thought aloud, pocketing his binoculars once again. 

“You know what side  _ I’m  _ on,” Sadie responded with a healthy amount of self awareness. “But maybe Arthur should decide.”

Arthur scratched at his scraggly beard. “It’d prolly be better if we surprised ‘em.”

“All right, let’s get this over with...” Charles sighed, leading the way once more. 

The three of them snuck closer to the entrance of the cave. A Murfree was repeatedly stabbing an already maimed corpse. There was a grotesque smell wafting around. If Arthur had any food in his belly, he’d have expelled it by now. 

Another man came out of the cave, carrying a half eaten corpse. 

“Sadie,” Arthur said, voice raspy, “You wanna take care of this one?”

“Might be too far for a throwing knife.”

Arthur looked over. “Charles?” He gave him a pleading look. A look that was admittedly pathetic, but he didn’t have the energy to hide his desperation.   
  
“I’ll help out if your shoulder acts up, it’s okay.”

“Dunno if it’s my shoulder I’m worried ‘bout…” Arthur pulled out his bow. He pulled his arrow back. A sharp pain ran up his arm all the way to the side of his neck. Like nothing had changed since Colm and his men captured him. Shaking, he lined up his arrow on the man that was slicing open the other corpse. Maybe just for fun. He let go of the arrow. 

It glided low to the ground, hitting the body. “Huh?” The Murfree managed to say right before Charles’ arrow took him out.

“I’ll stick with close range kills,” Arthur muttered. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll lead the way.” Charles said, placing a soft hand on Arthur’s arm. An apology that things didn’t go his way. 

“I’ll be behind Charles.” Sadie whispered. “You got any more throwing knives?”

“Yeah,” Arthur fumbled with the remaining blades in his satchel. He passed them over. “They’ll be of more use to you than me right now.”

“Oh hush, don’t go feelin’ sorry for yourself right now.” She said sternly. “Focus on gettin’ these bastards out of the cave.”

They crept up to the cave, the smell of rotting flesh only becoming more apparent. There were patches of light throughout Beaver Hollow, half-tended campfires that went deep into the cave. The light went back further than they could see from where they stood. An echo of Murfree Brood voices filled the cave. There were a lot of them, it seemed. At a certain point it would be harder to sneak up on them. All three of them realized that at the same time. “I’ll take this way,” Sadie said, pointing to the right where the cave veered off slightly. “You two go the other way. We’ll meet up soon enough in here.”

“You’re sure?”

“How bad can it be?” Sadie shrugged, tugging her hat down as she crawled away from Charles and Arthur.

“Two men up that way,” Arthur muttered. “I can get ‘em from here.”

“Ready when you are.” Charles prepared his bow. Arthur did the same. 

Luckily, Arthur’s arrow went right through the Murfree’s back. They fell like a house of cards. 

“Good job.” Charles patted Arthur on the back. “Let’s keep going.”

The cave proved to be larger than either of them expected. There were treasures, ropes, crates, anything that the gang could find in Roanoke Ridge. It was as if this cave was a black hole, gathering people and trash as if they were interchangeable. Arthur was sure if they went back further, they’d find more skeletons and corpses than Murfree Broods. 

The cave narrowed on their path. A couple of men were further, backs turned. They took care of them quickly, seeking solace behind a crate.

“You hear that?” Charles asked breathlessly. 

“What?”

“Someone is screaming. A woman, it sounds like.”

“You think it’s Sadie?”

Charles listened in more closely. “Don’t think so.”

“Shit,” Arthur said. “Could be their next meal.”

“We better hurry.” Charles tightened his grip on his bow before sneaking further into the cave.

A Murfree Brood member caught a glimpse of them. “We got company, boys!” He yelled, almost like a screech. 

“Not much more we can do with sneakin’!” Arthur yelled, grabbing his repeater. He felt much less pain as he lined up his gun with the men who were running towards them. Their blood misted on the sandstone, a red mist mixing with the orange glow of the lanterns around them. “Sadie!”

“I’m here!” Sadie said between strategic gunshots.

Murfree Broods just kept coming, each look in their eyes more crazed than the last. “They’re trying to take the girl!” One shouted. 

After an endless amount of bloodshed and bullets, the cave was empty. All that reverberated off the walls was the screams of the girl. Sadie joined up with them again. “Where is she?”

“I think she’s further back.” Charles said, running to the sound.

Tucked in the back of the cave, amongst more skulls than a morgue, was a shivering pale girl. Her auburn hair was in tangles. She was barefoot, wearing only her underthings. She was trapped in a makeshift cage, put together all too well for men as deranged as the Murfrees. 

“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me,” She whimpered, curling up on herself in the corner. 

“We ain’t gonna hurt you.” Arthur placated. “It’s okay, they’re gone now.”

“We’re gonna help you, miss.” Sadie said, getting out her knife to cut open the door to the cage. The girl saw the glint of the knife and she started screaming again. “I had to get the door open--” Sadie tried to explain, but the girl was too hysterical to respond or have that even register in her head. 

Arthur went in the cage, crouched low. He held his hands out in front of him. “It’s okay, you’re all right.”

The girl stopped screaming, replaced only by hyperventilating. Arthur put a gentle hand on her arm with all the carefulness that he would have with a wild horse. The soft touch seemed to calm her a little.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” Arthur said quietly. He helped the girl up from where she was sitting.

The girl, with a dirty face and tear stained cheeks, looked over at Charles and Sadie. Sadie recognized that same look in the girl’s eyes. Nothing was going to be the same for this girl, but at least she was alive.

“Keep your eyes down, miss.” Sadie said, walking on the other side of the girl. 

They got through the cave silently, the girl sniffling and whimpering as they passed the bodies of all the men they killed to save her. 

Arthur whistled for Beeve as they got to the mouth of the cave. “You mind ridin’ on my horse for a bit?” He asked.

The girl shook her head.

“Where do you live?” Charles asked. 

“A-Annesburg.” She said in a small voice. 

“C’mon, let’s take you home.” Arthur looked over at Sadie. “You and Charles should come with me.”

“We were both planning on it.” Sadie said in a concerned tone. “Just in case any of those crazy sons of bitches catch us on our way back.”

The girl, with help from Arthur, climbed atop Beeve. She wrapped her arms around Arthur’s waist tightly as if he was a liferaft. 

Charles and Sadie followed behind them, their horses’ hooves sloshing in the wet soil. Was it from blood? It remained to be seen.

The girl was quiet for most of the trip, her mind catching up with her. “They--they--those  _ animals _ \--” She started before her voice broke. 

“It’s okay, miss.” Arthur said. “Just breathe.”

“They killed the others.” She sniffled. “Why would they--”

“People is just plain evil.” Sadie chimed in, surely reminded of her own trauma back in Colter. “No other way to explain it.”

“I haven’t slept since they captured me,” she sobbed. “I haven’t eaten--”

“What’s your name?” Charles asked gently. 

She cleared her throat. “Meredith.”

“Well, Meredith, we’re gettin’ ya back home, don’t you worry.” Arthur made sure not to ride too fast to not jostle her. No good in getting her even more shaken up. “Just try to relax.”

Meredith held onto Arthur tighter, as if he was the only thing keeping her from slipping into a daze. “Thank you.”

As they rode into Annesburg, no Murfree Broods to be found, Meredith said softly, “Just get to Main Street and I can find my way.”

“I’ll walk you up, it’s no issue of mine.”

She sighed softly, almost relieved he said that. “Okay…”

Beeve, Taima, and Bob stopped in front of the train station. “Where’s your house, Meredith?” Sadie asked, holding out her hand to help the girl down.

“At the top of the hill,” she pointed up towards the small mining houses. 

Arthur walked her up the steps, Charles and Sadie staying behind, keeping a lookout. “Glad we saved her,” Charles said.    
  
“She ain’t going to forget what she saw or what happened to her in that cave.” Sadie responded grimly. “I hope she finds peace.

Charles looked up at the house to see Meredith embracing her mother tightly. Arthur stood awkwardly by. “I hope so too.” Her mother seemed to offer Arthur some cash for her trouble. He turned it down.

Charles could only think of the German family they saved. He couldn't help but smile.

Arthur waited until the door closed and he strode down the steps. He cleared his throat, which developed into a nasty coughing fit. 

“You okay?” Sadie asked, knowing the answer.

Arthur spit out some pink phlegm onto the boardwalk. “Couldn’t be better,” he responded wrly before his cough picked up again. 

“Arthur,” Charles said worryingly. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine, stop worryin’--” He hacked up some more phlegm. He missed a step as he stumbled into the dirt. He put the heels of his palms into the dirt. Charles grabbed one arm and Sadie grabbed the other. His skin felt cold, clammy. It felt like he weighed a ton in their arms, his feet dragging behind. They only made it a few steps before Arthur collapsed.

“Shit, shit,  _ Arthur _ !” Charles squatted down and picked up Arthur. “I gotta take him to a doctor--” He said with a grunt.

“You want me to come with you?”

Charles shook his head. Arthur’s head lolled back and forth. “I got him. You go and get the others.”

“I doubt there’s a doctor here that can help him.” Sadie said, eyes soft. “Where you gonna take him?”

Charles put Arthur on the back of Taima. “St. Denis,” He climbed atop his horse. “Let Dutch know where we are.” 

“I will.” She tied Beeve’s reins to Bob’s saddle. 

Charles nodded before kicking Taima’s sides.

“Stay with me, Arthur.” He said, voice shaking. “Please...”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


End file.
